


Boredom and Secrets

by XxXxDarkVampirexXxX



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dumbledore Bashing, Humour, M/M, Mentions of abuse but nothing detailed hopefully, Only AW-MW-PW-RW-GW if it happens, Probably character bashing, Romance, Weasley Bashing maybe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-18 00:54:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 47
Words: 31,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7292944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XxXxDarkVampirexXxX/pseuds/XxXxDarkVampirexXxX
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So here's an idea I came up with like half an hour ago, because washing dishes is boring. Anyway, don't take things too seriously, I'm mainly writing this for fun, though there will indeed be darker things mentioned. Each chapter will be very short, drabblish, I suppose you can say. That might change later on though, who knows. Oh, cross posted on FFN.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters...

Voldemort was seated in his study at Riddle Manor, his current place of stay. He was simply going over plans for the future, when a snowy white owl suddenly flew in through the open window to his right, and landed on his desk, right in front of him and on top of various sheets of parchment. In its beak, was a letter.

Voldemort stared. The owl stared right back, with just as much intensity. How...disconcerting.

He automatically pulled out his wand, and checked the letter for any hexes, curses, or traps, as any good Dark Lord should, then, when he was positive it was safe and clear, took it from the owl.

Having expected the bird to fly off immediately, as most tended to do around him, he was honestly quite surprised when it remained where it was. Perhaps a prompt response was required, then.

Since the owl could not answer him, he unfolded the letter. It was very short, barely three sentences long. Still, he began to read...

 _Voldemort,_  
_I'm bored. It's your fault. Entertain me._  
_Harry Potter_

A strange, jerky twitch ran through the Dark Lord's body. "That boy has a death wish," he growled to himself. And to his surprise, the owl before him hooted in what, oddly enough, sounded like agreement. "Tch, bold brat."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's this one. POVs will alternate between V and HP. I'm open to ideas/suggestions. Comments? Kudos?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off. Crackish sort of, at first, I guess. Slash fic!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad you all liked the first chapter. I've never really written anything like this, so it's a bit of an experiment for me as well, and the short chapters make it easier to write quickly. Just a quick thing I'd like to mention though. I've been having issues with the comp I've been using that often affect updates, so I do apologize for that, though I'm trying my best with what I can do. There are simply days when it doesn't work, and I'm sorry, but I can't do anything about that. If I had the money, sure I'd get a new one, but I don't, so we all gotta deal. Anyway, thank you to all readers so far, and an extra to those who commented!

Fifteen year old Harry Potter lay on his back in his very uncomfortable bed, staring up at the plain while ceiling. It was summer vacation, and he was bored. Hell, he was _beyond_ bored. And while it was true he'd never really cared for the breaks away from school because of the Dursleys, he certainly didn't want to spend it locked inside a small, ugly, lemon scented room. Bleh.

Part of him was dead inside, he knew, because of what had happened to his godfather, and learning of the stupid prophecy. He didn't want to think about it though. Not now. And being trapped in a Muggle location, closed off from any friends, certainly helped him ignore it.

Still, that got him thinking about Voldemort. No, not of how he had lured the teen to the Department of Mysteries, gotten Sirius killed, or possessed him. No, nothing like that. What he _was_ thinking about, was how it was Voldemort's fault he was currently locked in this bloody room with nothing to do.

What in the name of-did House Elves have their own Elf god that they worshiped?-was the Order thinking!? He was a teenager! Did they really expect him to sit cooped up in this house with the Dursleys for two whole months!? They were crazy!

And that brought him back to the beginning of this whole thing. He was bored, so, to counter that, he had sent Hedwig off with a letter for the Dark Lord. It hadn't been until his beloved owl had vanished out of sight, that he had realized that this probably hadn't been the smartest idea he had ever had.

So he lay there, waiting for Hedwig to come back, hoping-praying Voldemort didn't kill her. His scar wasn't burning, hadn't even twinged. But he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. With old Voldy, it was near impossible to tell.

"Hedwig!" He exclaimed quite suddenly, as the owl gracefully flew in through the thankfully no longer barred window. He held out his arm, waiting for her to land. When she had, he examined her carefully, relieved to see that she was safe. And more, had a letter clamped in her beak.

Was this his own that she had failed to deliver (an insult to her amazing skills, naturally). Or had Voldemort actually written back to him? With no one else there to answer him, he took the letter with his free hand, unfolded it, and realized no, it wasn't his own. Which meant-

_Potter,_   
_While I fail to see how this is any of my concern, how in Salazar's name is it my fault that you lack a thing to do? And, you wish for me to entertain you? Tell me, do I resemble a red nosed clown to you?_   
_Voldemort_

For a moment, Harry just stared. And then, slowly, a grin stretched out across his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it was a little darker, but it needed to happen. I'm sure I mentioned that already, right?-that certain chapters will have slightly darker tones to them? Either way, comments? Kudos?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off. Crackish sort of, at first, I guess. Slash fic!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't promise everyday chapters like this, but I'm glad you're all enjoying this! Thank you to all readers so far, and an extra to those who commented!

It was mid-July and Voldemort could certainly feel it in the air. It didn't bother him like it did some of his Death Eaters, Severus, mainly. The Dark Lord rather liked the heat, actually.

Tipping his head back, Voldemort slowly fingered his wand, crimson gaze passing over each masked face impassively. They were droning on, one at a time, about things he could have figured out in mere minutes if he had taken care of it himself. Actually, now that he thought about it, he probably should have. Then he wouldn't have had to deal with all this incompetence.

He sighed, prompting the Death Eater who was speaking-what was his name again?-to freeze mid-sentence. Whenever the Dark Lord sighed in the middle of a meeting, someone always ended up getting tortured, and it wasn't necessarily the person to have been talking.

And that was why there were multiple sighs of relief when a snow white owl flew into the room through the large open wood doors, distracting Voldemort from any potential torture, much to the pleasure of all possible victims.

The bird flew in circles through the room, before landing on the arm of the large, ornate throne. Voldemort found himself staring again, but this time, he knew _exactly_ who the owl belonged to. Crimson slits narrowed as much as they could. "That menace," he muttered irritably.

Choosing to ignore the owl momentarily, he returned his attention to continuing his meeting. Though, much to his dismay, he found his interest fading fairly rapidly, gaze constantly wandering back to the bird that remained on the arm of his throne, staring at him intently with those amber eyes. "Dismissed!" he called out abruptly.

Catching the irritation in their Lord's voice, and not wanting to be on the receiving end of it, the Death Eaters scarpered. And this, left Lord Voldemort alone with Harry Potter's owl.

It was his own fault, he knew. He had been the one to respond to the brat's first letter. Perhaps if he hadn't, this wouldn't be happening right now. He should have-should ignore it...right?

Annoyed at himself, he took the letter from the bird, who had yet to look away. Strange, did all owls behave in such a manner? He couldn't recall.

_Voldemort,_   
_It's your fault because you're the Dark Lord, and I'm the Chosen One or whatever. And hey, if I have to suffer, then you should too._   
_Anyway, as for the whole clown thing, you really shouldn't have given me that mental image. Now I can't stop picturing you with a poofy green wig, big yellow shoes, and a round, red rubber nose, squirting water at everyone with a fake flower._   
_...Actually, where would the clown nose even go? It has nothing to hold on to! The wig would be easy, since you have no hair, and I don't remember you wearing any shoes, so there's that._   
_Maybe I'll bribe my cousin into drawing a picture of it. I promise to send you a copy if he does!_   
_Harry Potter_

For a very, very long moment, Voldemort stared at the letter, unable to believe what he had just read. A vein twitched in his temple, as he told himself not to dignify this with a reply. _Do not... Do not... Do not..._

"Wormtail!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, no promises for there being another chapter tomorrow, but I'll try my best. These short ones are so much easier to write! Comments? Kudos?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Four days in a row, guys! This is a bloody miracle for me! So glad you guys are enjoying this so far! Thank you to all readers and an extra to those who commented!

Harry was so relieved to be outside for once, that he didn't even care that he was stuck weeding the garden. Uncle Vernon was at work, Dudley at a friend's house likely doing drugs or something, and Aunt Petunia was on the phone, busy gossiping away about Dobby knows what. _Actually_ , he thought, _Dobby probably does know what. I love the little bugger, but he's a creepy fuck. Though he'd certainly be an effective spy, wouldn't he?  
_

He couldn't help the little laugh that bubbled out of him, and he absently wondered if Hedwig was on her way back yet. He knew Voldemort had gotten the letter, because he had felt his scar burn a little with the Dark Lord's, well, he wanted to call it anger, but it had really felt more like irritation, really. It had barely even felt it, actually.

Still, he was surprised Voldemort had even bothered responding to his first letter. Hadn't he had anything better to do? Like taking over the world or something to that effect? Not that Harry was complaining. This was fun. Well, for now.

A hooting to his left drew the teen out of his thoughts. He looked down, blinked, and then grinned. "Hey there, girl! I didn't notice you there!" When Hedwig hooted in what sounded like exasperation, his grin widened. "I know, girl. I agree. I think the sunlight and fresh air made me a little drunk."

Dropping the gardening tools he was holding, he reached for the letter his dear owl had brought with her. Voldemort had replied again, it seemed. Well, that was weird. He really hadn't expected that.

_Potter,_   
_You are bored because you are the Chosen One? Surely you are able to do whatever you desire with the way you have the old fool wrapped around your finger? Have you grown tired of all your luxuries? A surprising feat indeed, for a Gryffindor._   
_And if you ever compare me to a filthy clown again, the Killing Curse you will eventually suffer by my hand will be the least of your concern._   
_Voldemort_

Harry blinked, read through the letter again, and then laughed. He grinned as he returned to his weeding. It was time, he decided, to channel his inner Marauder.

"I think I have a cousin to bribe."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you tomorrow? Maybe? Comments? Kudos?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never updated anything so many days in a row. Feels weird. Almost didn't get this up though-the comp wasn't working. A slightly longer chapter this time though! Thank you to all readers so far, and an extra to those who commented!

Voldemort was not in a good mood. He had been looking into getting his old body back, but things weren't looking too good. While he would _never_ admit it, Potter's comments about his lack of hair and nose had...irritated him.

He scowled, though no one was there to see it, alone in his study as he was, with Severus just having left. He had been hoping there was a potion out there that could...help him, but according to his spy, there wasn't. Needless to say, Severus had departed with orders to look into it.

Of course, he wasn't doing this for Potter's sake. No, he told himself, the boy had nothing, absolutely nothing to do with this.

In the shadows of the room, Nagini hissed out a laugh.

A tapping on the window drew his attention, and when he looked over, he spotted an owl perched on the sill on the other side of the glass. Eyes narrowed, he scowled again. "Fucking owl," he muttered in irritation.

Nope, he was ignoring this. He had entirely no desire to deal with Potter or his damned bird today. No desire whatsoever.

So he turned his focus back to the paperwork he had yet to complete, attempting to disregard both the snowy white owl resting on his windowsill, and a laughing Nagini, who was somewhere in the room.

"Hoot."

"Sss."

_Ignore it._

"Hoot."

"Sss."

_Ignore it._

"Hoot."

"Sss."

_Ignore i-_

"HOOT!"

Voldemort slammed his hands down onto his desk, got to his feet, and stalked over to the window, glaring at the owl. But the bird merely stared back, almost in what looked like defiant determination. _Figures that the brat just had to end up with an owl as annoying as him._

The Dark Lord knew he could always just kill the bird, but something was telling him that that would be a horrible, futile idea. Besides, it would probably come back to haunt him as a ghost-owl.

So, with no other choice, he opened the window.

The owl bobbed its feathery head in a nod of approval. Scowl deepening, Voldemort took the letter, resisted the urge to slam the window shut, and returned to his desk.

_Voldemort,_   
_Please disregard any tears on the parchment. I was laughing so hard I cried at your stupid statement of me living a life of luxury._   
_Anyway, my, my, doth the Dark Lord protest too much? You're the one who brought up the whole clown thing in the first place, not me. Why are you so defensive about it anyway? Were you forced to dress up like a clown before or something? Maybe at the orphanage? Wait, Purebloods don't know what clowns are, do they? No, of course they wouldn't. Weird._   
_By the way, I've enclosed a present for you. It did take some bribing, as I thought it would, but it was totally worth it, even if the image did scar me for life._   
_Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'm going to mail these copies to other people so I can scar them for life too! Clowns are perfect for that. Guess which old man is number one on my list?_   
_Harry Potter_

Voldemort wasted no time, and quickly found the second page. There, crudely drawn by hand, was him...as a clown, complete with puffed up curly green hair, a red painted grin, a round red rubber nose, massive orange and green polka-dotted pants, huge yellow shoes, and an identifiable flower in the midst of, what appeared to be, squirting out water. In one of his hands, he held a cream pie, which even had a cherry on top. The title of the drawing, written in a messy, but familiar scrawl, was _The Dark Clown Lord Voldemort._

It was still terrifying, Voldemort decided, but not in the correct manner. He really hated clowns-the bloody demonic things. And then he abruptly recalled what had been written in the final paragraph of the menace's letter. _He made copies_!

"POTTER!"

Nagini hissed in laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we are, another letter down. Clowns creep me the fuck out, so I won't be focusing on that for much longer. Time to move on to something funnier. Any ideas? Let's hope I can keep this going as quick as it is. It's fun. Comments? Kudos?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo. Made it! There's still ten minutes until midnight! Thank you to all readers so far, and an extra to those who reviewed! Oh, and Achaka here on AO3 drew a couple of Voldeclown pictures! http :// i. imgur. com/ ve1Tfy2. jpg (without spaces) is where you'll find a crude-Dudley version. And http :// i. imgur. com/ aegqg9J. jpg (without spaces) is the more serious one. I love them! Also, I have no idea how to embed links or whatever. Sorry.

Harry, who had been fast asleep, woke abruptly when his scar began to burn. Sitting up in bed, he pressed a hand over it, and laughed. "Looks like _someone_ just got their mail. Haha-ow!"

The teen knew sending the Dark Lord a drawing of himself as a clown probably hadn't been the smartest thing to do, but hey, he was bored. And besides, what was the worst thing Voldemort could do? Try to kill him-again?

Considering he had already done that multiple times, it really wasn't that big a threat. Besides, Harry wasn't scared of death.

Aware he wasn't going to be able to fall back asleep now that he was awake, Harry sighed and flopped down onto his back, staring up at the darkened ceiling. He had a feeling Voldemort was going to reply to his letter. His Dark Lordly pride and anger was going to make him. It was just the matter of waiting.

Speaking of which, bribing Dudley into drawing Voldeclown pictures had been well worth it. He hadn't been lying when he'd stated he was going to mail one to Dumbledore. He'd already done so, half hoping it would give the old man a heart attack. And ooh, just the thought of Hedwig delivering it during an Order meeting brought a grin to his face. Imagine what the twins would do!

Smothering a laugh, Harry gave his head a little shake to pull himself out of his thoughts. And just in time too. Mere seconds later, Hedwig flew into the room.

"Hedwig! That was quick!" he exclaimed, green eyes wide. And then he clamped a hand over his mouth, and glanced at the door, listening intently for footsteps. Hearing nothing, he took the letter from his owl. "Sorry, girl. Why don't you get some rest?"

Once his dear owl was in her cage, he turned his attention to the letter.

_Potter,_   
_Luck, it seems, is still on your side, otherwise I would have throttled you in your sleep. But you will not be so well protected forever. Remember that._   
_And the Dark Lord Voldemort makes no 'stupid' statements. You would do well to remember that too._   
_Also, you and I both know the old fool will enjoy the...work of...art if you, foolish Gryffindor that you are, sent it to him. All it does, however, is give me further incentive to kill him, you realize. Added to that, it clearly must have been he, who told you of the orphanage, correct? It cannot have been anyone else._   
_And Potter? I recommend you avoid sleeping._   
_Voldemort_

"Well, someone isn't very happy today," the teen muttered. "And the hell's he mean by that last bit? Why shouldn't I sleep?"

Almost as if it were inevitable, Harry ended up doing the opposite of what he should have, and fell asleep right where he was, the letter still in hand.

And in the wee hours of the morning, the Dursley household erupted with a loud, frightened cry of-

"GAH! Get the fuck away from me, Elmo!"

Miles away, the Dark Lord broke into terrifying sounding laughter, and upon hearing it, Wormtail pissed himself where he stood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies if you don't know who Elmo is. True story: My little brother had an Elmo toy that laughed maniacally years ago. I had a nightmare where he chased me around with a knife, trying to kill me. ...Fucking Elmo. Next chapter will be the Order seeing the Voldeclown picture. Comments? Kudos?


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait. I had this ready to go on Thursday evening, but my older bro took the comp to see if he could fix it, and he only brought it back yesterday evening. I had other things to do first, so I never got around to putting this up. And before you get excited, no, I don't think the comp's fixed, unfortunately. Anyway, thank you to all readers so far, and an extra to those who commented!

Severus Snape was bored, irritated, and had a headache. He wanted to be in his lab or his bed, but instead, he was stuck in the cramped kitchen of Grimmauld Place, in the middle of a meeting for the Order of the Phoenix.

Right now, they were discussing...mangoes*, apparently. ...Why?

The spy had no idea what this had to do with _anything_ and rubbed his brow in annoyance. He hoped this meeting ended soon. Better yet, he hoped the Dark Lord would summon him, so everyone could be reminded why _exactly_ they were supposed to be here in the first place.

Severus would never know if it had been a good thing or not, when a bright feathered owl suddenly flew into the room from the open window.

"Hedwig!" the Weasley twins exclaimed in unison, jumping to their feet simultaneously.

Every pair of eyes in the room followed the bird, waiting to see where she would land. It was clear to them she had a letter, but who was it for?

Hedwig circled the room for another moment, almost as through she were teasing them. Finally, she landed directly before Albus Dumbledore, who had just placed another lemon drop in his mouth.

The old man blinked and then chuckled, reaching out to accept the letter.

Everyone watched curiously as he read through it. But when he flipped to the second page, his smile vanished, and he reached up to grab his throat, choking on his lemon drop.

Alarmed, nobody moved. Severus, curious but unconcerned, flicked his wrist, using a spell to dislodge the offending piece of candy, and the old man gasped for breath.

"Albus! What happened!?" questioned Minerva.

"Has something happened to Harry!?" Lupin demanded to know.

Dumbledore said nothing, merely passed the letter to Gryffindor's Head of House, who gasped sharply. She handed it to Molly, who fainted. The letter passed from hand to hand, everyone reacting differently. Some gaped, others chuckled in appreciation, others appeared horrified, and Lupin and the twins all but howled in laughter.

Finally, the missive made it to Severus, and he wondered what Potter could possibly have written to have caused such strange reactions.

_Headmaster,_   
_Before you start thinking otherwise, no, I haven't forgiven you, and yes, I'm still pissed. I won't even bother asking when I'll get to leave Privet Drive, because I already know what the answer will be. I only wrote this because I have something to show you._   
_See, this place is really boring, and in my boredom, I decided it was a good idea to bribe my cousin Dudley into drawing a picture of Voldemort as a clown._   
_...I told you, I'm bored. Anyway, here's a copy!_   
_Oh yeah, I sent out resident Dark Lord a copy too!_   
_Harry Potter_

At first, Severus thought the boy was joking, but then he saw the crude drawing and paled, _praying_ to whoever might be listening that Potter had been lying. If the Dark Lord saw this picture, he was liable to kill everyone he saw on the spot.

The twins both made grabs for the letter, but Dumbledore took it before they could, and pocketed it with a smile, choosing to continue their meeting on mangoes.

Severus began to listen without complaint, no longer wishing to be summoned so he could escape from this. He had no desire to be anywhere near the Dark Lord when he received that drawing.

The twins on the other hand, had stopped paying attention to all the mango talk, and sat with their heads together, plotting on how to steal the drawing from the Headmaster, or recreate it for mass production, wanting to sell it from their new joke shop.

And Remus, caught between pride and concern, hoped Voldemort didn't hurt Harry for what he had just done-for this terrible, hilarious idea.

* * *

Not long after, while Voldemort read Harry's letter and first saw the drawing of himself as a clown, Dumbledore stood in the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts.

Humming to himself cheerfully, he used a spell to pin the hilarious, yet charming Voldeclown drawing to one of the walls. Yes, he quite liked it. It fit very nicely. He had always loved clowns. Such a wonderful creation!

Phineas Nigellus meanwhile, sighed. He had messages to deliver, and it seemed he owed a certain dead relative five painted Galleons.

...Sirius was never going to let him live it down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who was eating mangoes while writing this chapter? I can't promise another chapter for tomorrow, cause I've got plans to go out for once in my life. Anyway, comments? Kudos?


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the length of this chapter. I made it a bit longer than it originally was, but couldn't do too much about it. Thank you to all readers so far, and an extra to those who commented!

It was nearing the end of July, and Voldemort was beginning to feel some stress. He was planning a raid for the thirty first of this month, but with so many of his Death Eaters being morons, that deadline was appearing more and more unlikely.

Why exactly had these fools been recruited again?

But that wasn't the only thing bothering him. There was still the issue of Potter. No, not the nonsense with the clown-though that was an annoyance as well.

Why had Dumbledore told the boy of the orphanage? What was the point? To _sympathize_ with him? What nonsense! Something about that just seemed so...wrong.

And that was why he was waiting impatiently for Potter's next letter. Hopefully he would choose to answer his query, rather than merely focus on the Elmo dream he had sent him.

Voldemort needed answers. Voldemort _demanded_ answers.

"Hoot, hoot."

For once in his life, the Dark Lord was _pleased_ to see the brat's snowy owl. He waited for it to land, then reached for the parchment immediately, absently conjuring a mouse for the bird.

_Voldemort,_   
_A stupid statement is stupid, regardless of who makes it, even if made by an 'evil' Dark Lord. Oh, and hate to break it to you, but Dumbledore hasn't told me jack shite about anything. Your sixteen year old self from that weird diary told/showed me in my second year, before I killed the basilisk he-you?-set on me and destroyed the damn book with a fang._   
_And as for that dream, thanks for reminding me that Elmo scares me far more than you ever have, or probably will. If I wasn't in so much pain right now, I'd have a comeback for that._   
_But I will have my revenge! There has to be something out there more terrifying than Elmo! And trust me, I will find it!_   
_Harry Potter_

Despite having read the entire letter, Voldemort's attention quickly reverted back up to the first half, which he read through twice more.

_Diary...diary...diary..._

There was an audible crackle of dark magic, that had the owl hooting in what sounded like surprise. But Voldemort ignored this, and surged to his feet, crushing the letter in his hand.

"LUCIUS!"

Miles away, Lucius Malfoy felt a shiver run down his spine. A shiver so intense, it had him spilling his very expensive wine down his front, staining his equally expensive shirt.

Sitting across her husband, Narcissa shook her head in exasperation. Another nice shirt wasted. That man had to stop getting scared so easily. It was clear where their son had gotten his courage-or lack thereof, from.

She snapped her fingers, silently summoning a House-Elf, and a single look told all. The Elf shook his head mournfully at the destruction of such a lovely shirt...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I already know what Harry's going to use as revenge-my inspiration coming from a certain toy my little sister used to have years ago. Still, I'm open to ideas/suggestions. Comments? Kudos?


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait. This chapter is lacking in humour. At least until the end. Thank you to all readers so far!

Harry groaned as he regained consciousness. "Happy fucking birthday, Harry," he muttered to himself. Groaning, he rolled over onto his back with a pained grimace. God, he hated living here. "One more year," he murmured. Less than that, actually, since he'd be at Hogwarts. So, is was more like two more months, with a ten month gap between the two.

He could do that, even if they _would_ be two very painful months.

A flash of white catching his eye, the teen slowly sat up, gripping his ribs. Looking over, he blinked, and then grinned. "Hullo, Hedwig," he greeted cheerfully.

She hooted in what sounded like concern, but flew down in front of him, and it was only then that Harry noted she had more than one letter for him.

Taking all of them, he scanned who they were from: Hermione, the Weasley twins, Remus, and Voldemort. A brow rose at the one obvious name missing, but he merely smirked, already having expected that.

Beyond wishing him a happy birthday, Hermione promised him a present once they met again, and apologized that it couldn't be sooner than September first. The twins' letter was similar, though it had the addition of them congratulating him for nearly causing Dumbledore to choke to death on a lemon drop. Remus' letter essentially said the same thing, though there was a half hearted scolding in there too.

Harry laughed quietly when he finished reading the three letters, but wasn't at all surprised by anything they said. He knew the writers well.

But he had to admit, the final letter was the one he was most curious about. He still hadn't come up with anything to retaliate against that damn Elmo nightmare, which really irritated him.

_Potter,_  
_I will always be more frightening than that puppet._  
_Voldemort_

Harry blinked. "That's it?" He turned the parchment so he could look at the back. Nothing. "Really? No other comment?" Nothing about the diary, or Dumbledore? No insults either? Was the Dark Lord sick or something? This wasn't like him at all.

And then his scar started searing. The teen clapped a hand over it immediately, and groaned. "Yeah, I was so asking for this," he muttered to himself.

His vision wavered...

_"Do you know why I have called you here, Lucius?" Voldemort didn't give the man a chance to answer. "You see, I learned something the other day. A very important item that I left in your possession, has somehow been destroyed by Potter. Destroyed by him when he was twelve years old, no less. Have you any idea how this occurred?"_

_Lucius paled._

_Trapped watching, Harry did the same, and hoped Voldemort didn't kill the man. The teen really didn't like the thought of murder. ...Maybe if he could just distract the Dark Lord?_

_"Crucio!"_

_Harry cringed at Malfoy's cries of pain, and tried to think more quickly. He didn't want to see the guy get tortured either. But before he managed to come up with anything, the strangest thing happened._

_Wormtail ran into the room screaming, a paper bag over his head, a strange smiley face drawn over it._

_Harry stared, Voldemort ended his torture curse to do the same, and even a pained Lucius managed to raise his head to look._

_As the three watched in shocked confusion, Wormtail ran all the way across the room, hit the opposite wall with a thump, and then crumpled to the floor, unconscious, the brown paper bag still over his head._

_For a moment, there was silence._

_"Dismissed, Lucius!"_

_Malfoy pulled himself to his feet, bowed, and left the room in a hurry._

Harry woke with a jolt, and stared up at the ceiling, blinking slowly. "Did Wormtail just save Malfoy's life by knocking himself out while wearing a bag over his head? ...Nah, that was probably just a weird dream. Wormtail can't possibly be _that_ stupid, right...?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No idea where that idea came from, but yeah. Anyway, if you're into this for the crackishness, then check out Harry Potter is an Annoying Little Bugger. That's going to stay crack, unlike this, though the chapters will be unrelated to one another. Comments? Kudos?


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the length of this chapter. I wanted to make it longer, but this was the best I could do. Anyway, thank you to all readers so far, and an extra to those who commented!

Voldemort was not in a good mood. It was the thirty first of July, and his plans had all gone up in smoke. Literally. The fool he had placed in charge of the raid had decided it was a good idea to play with incendio charms around obviously flammable parchment-including the plans for the raid.

That man no longer existed.

Unfortunately, all of this had happened rather last minute, which meant there was no time to get someone else involved. Well, at least the Order would be running around like headless chickens, as Severus had-purposely-informed them of the raid that was no longer taking place.

The Dark Lord's slowly improving mood deteriorated immediately, when an owl flew into the room. "Potter," he muttered, crimson eyes locking on the bird, which, he noted, didn't look like normal.

The slited irises widened as much as they could, and Voldemort jumped to his feet, backing away from the approaching owl...which, as it turned out, wasn't an owl at all.

"I fucking _hate_ Furbies! Incendio!" The spell did absolutely nothing. He glowered as the toy landed on his vacated throne, before going still.

Voldemort glared at the damn thing. At least it wasn't speaking. That was the worst. Still, it was irritating that Potter had decided to send the letter tied to a Furby, rather than an actual owl, like any sane person would- _should_ do. And it didn't help that the toy appeared to be warded against spells. How had he even managed to do that?

Annoyed with himself, Voldemort actually hesitated before grabbing the parchment, which seemed to be dotted with blood for some reason, immediately yanking his hand back when the Furby blinked at him slowly. Damn thing was probably possessed.

"Fucking menace."

_Voldemort,_  
_Guess what's freakier than Elmo? My cousin screamed like a little girl and pissed himself the first time he interacted with a Furby...last week._  
_Speaking of screaming, what the hell's up with Wormtail? Why did he have a paper bag over his head? Why was there a smiley face drawn on it? And what the heck was he screaming about? Honestly, did he step on a Lego* or something?_  
_Wait, does this mean Lucius Malfoy owes Wormtail a Life Debt? ...Weird._  
_Anyway, sorry about the blood. My uncle broke my nose again._  
_Oh, and the Furby's been charmed to follow you around. Have fun!_  
_Harry Potter_

"...You little fuck!"

*I almost wrote Legolas XD

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those of you who have been mentioning Furbies, congratulations-we've all been menaced by the bloody things. My sister's used to freak me out all time time when we were younger. Comments? Kudos?


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, I'm having so much fun with this! Thank you to all readers so far!

Harry was outside, taking a walk. His nightmares had kept the Dursleys up all night, so they had kicked him out for the day, wanting a bit of ensured peace and quiet. Since Dudley wasn't home either though, Harry was sure his aunt and uncle just wanted to get freaky without being interrupted.

...What a horrifying thought.

Humming softly to himself, the teen kept walking, falling into thought as he did so. He wondered if Voldemort had managed to get rid of that Furby yet. Considering Fred and George had been the ones to charm it, who knew what it would take to cancel those out.

What a sight that would be though, huh? Voldemort being all threatening and menacing, while a creepy toy just kept following him around? Hilarious.

"Stop stalking me," he spoke abruptly.

"No can do, Harry," a voice from behind him replied promptly.

"It isn't a secret if you're talking to me."

"You're the one who spoke first!"

"...Tonks, maybe I was just talking to myself."

"..."

"Yeah, thought so."

"Hoot, hoot." With a sound of warning, Harry's beloved familiar landed on his shoulder.

"Hey, who's that letter from?" asked Tonks curiously.

"Voldemort."

"...What!?"

"Yeah, we've been writing to each other for just over two weeks now."

"I need to tell Dumbledore!" And with a sharp 'crack', the woman was gone.

"...Really, Tonks? Really? Way to ditch guard duty." Shrugging, Harry focused on the letter.

_Potter,_   
_You speak a if your uncle breaks your nose frequently._   
_As for Wormtail, I have yet to learn what exactly he was doing. He gave himself a concussion when he ran into the wall, and claims he no longer recalls what happened. I would simply slide into his mind, but doing so would likely damage his mind more. He cannot afford harming his brain any more. I need at least partially competent followers._   
_As for the paper bag, I believe Nagini had something to do with that, though she refuses to tell me what or why._   
_Now that I have politely answered your questions, I demand you tell me how to get rid of this fucking Furby!_   
_Voldemort_

After reaching the end of the letter, Harry just began to laugh, unable to stop himself. "Go get some sleep, girl," he told Hedwig while he stashed the parchment in his pocket.

When his owl flew off, he resumed walking, a grin on his face. He had no idea what Fred and George had done to that Furby, but whatever it was, appeared to be working. It was clear Voldemort was getting irritated. How amusing that all it took was a children's toy.

"Back, Tonks?"

"..."

"Did you tell Dumbledore about the letter?"

"..."

"When is he going to come question me?"

"...Oof!" The woman tripped because of a large crack in the sidewalk, that the emerald eyed teen had stepped over neatly.

Harry paused and glanced over his shoulder. "You know, you should really ask Snape for lessons on stalking." Turning back around, the teen continued on his way, smirking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Kudos?


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait. Things have been a little difficult lately. Anyway, thank you to all readers so far!

Voldemort wasn't sure if he had ever been more irritated. The fucking Furby was hovering by his head, blinking and making eerily disturbing clicking* sounds with its plastic beak.

He had used spell after spell, jinx after jinx, hex after hex, curse after curse, and absolutely nothing had worked. Not even a furious Avada Kedavra. He had no idea what Potter had done to the damn thing.

Speaking of Potter, there was another thing bothering him. The casually mentioned signs of what could only be abuse.

Each letter had a vague statement, and each only increased his suspicion. What was happening while the boy stayed with those Muggle relatives? What were they _really_ doing to him? Did the old fool Dumbledore know? Was he ignoring it? Knowing the old man, it was likely. He had done so before. More than once too.

Why was Potter fighting for him then? Was he really that daft? Surely not. So then, why? Despite the questions, the Dark Lord had no answers. ...He wondered what Severus knew, and why he had never mentioned the abuse to him. He, of all people, was well aware of just how much the Dark Lord Voldemort _despised_ child abuse.

But, just as he was about to summon the dour Potions Master-

"HOOOOOOT!"

"What the-!?" Voldemort whipped around just in time to see a small, puffy ball fly straight into the wall opposite the open window. Eyes narrowing and hoping it wasn't another Furby, he took a step forward.

Before he could take a second, the tiny owl (Thank Salazar!) shot back up into the air like the newest broom on the market, and began whizzing about over his head.

"Hoot! Hoot! Hoot! Hoot! Hoot!"

"Get down here!" Voldemort demanded.

"...Hoot." The small bird froze, before hooting meekly and lowering down so the snake like man could access the letter tied to its leg.

"Sit over there!" the Dark Lord ordered, pointing at his throne, upon which the Furby was now resting. The owl released a sullen sounding hoot, before doing as told. It was used to being put into timeout.

_Voldemort,_   
_Well, broken noses are the least painful things I have to deal with around here. Honestly, it doesn't even matter any more._   
_Wormtail, by the way, is fucking weird. Why the hell do you even keep him around? He's a total idiot. I bet he hasn't even told you he owes me a Life Debt, has he?_   
_...Did it hurt you to be polite when you wrote that last letter? Either way, sorry, but I have absolutely no idea how to get rid of the Furby. Some friends of mine were the ones to charm it, not me, and the two of them are evil geniuses when it comes to this stuff. But I'll ask them for the counter if you ask nicely again!_   
_Oh, and I'm sorry about Pig (the owl). I swear it's like he's high or something. ...Maybe Ron's a secret drug lord and Pig keeps getting into his stash. ...Actually, that would explain so much!_   
_Have to go question a friend now!_   
_Harry Potter_

"Hiss..."

Voldemort didn't hear the sound at first, too focused on the letter he was reading. Suffice to say, he wasn't very pleased that his Furby problem wasn't about to be solved.

"Hiss..."

"H-hoot!?"

Now, he looked over. Eyes widening, the Dark Lord dropped the letter, jumped back, and pulled out his wand. "Dear Mahal and sweet Yavanna, it's hissing!" The fucking Furby was hissing- _hissing!_ -at the tiny fluffball of an owl.

It was terrifying.

Miles away, Harry Potter looked up from his essay (read: boredom induced stupor). "...Why do I suddenly feel like hexing someone and reading the Lord of the Rings?"

Ron Weasley, who had been at the other end of the house, burst into the room abruptly. "Did someone just say onion rings!? I'm hungry!"

*If you've ever played/watched The Last of Us, think Clickers. Yeah. That's the noise the Furby's making.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I don't even know. Don't ask. Comments? Kudos?


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so short. I tried making it a little longer, but I love the end off point, and didn't want to go beyond it. Thank you to all readers so far, and an extra to those who commented!

Harry had been quite surprised when the Order had suddenly turned up at Number Four in the morning, claiming they were taking him to Grimmauld Place now. He had assumed he was going to be stuck in Privet Drive all summer. Dumbledore had essentially told him as much. No one said why he had suddenly changed his mind, no matter how many times he asked.

Still, even though he had gone with them without complaint, this was one of the last places he wanted to be. Grimmauld Place, to Sirius, had been what Privet Drive was to Harry. His godfather had been imprisoned in here, even after having broken out of Azkaban, and had been forced to stay hidden, despite his obvious innocence. Harry hated that constant reminder more than anything.

So, as a distraction, he had borrowed Ron's owl Pig (since Hedwig was out hunting), and sent him off to Voldemort with a letter, curious to know what the Dark Lord would do about the Furby, since he didn't know how to counter the spells placed on it by the twins.

Two days passed...

"Oh, there you are, mate!"

Harry blinked and looked up from Hermione's copy of The Fellowship of the Ring, which she had cautiously sent to him via Hedwig upon his insistence after the sudden and unexpected urge to read the series. Ron had just walked into the room, his tiny owl perched on his shoulder, shivering.

"Hey, er-what's wrong with Pig?" The owl looked...traumatized.

The red haired teen merely shrugged. "No idea. He's been like that since he got back. But he's got a response from whoever you wrote to," he said, passing the small sheet of parchment over.

Harry didn't bother asking if he or anyone else had read it first. Privacy wasn't something that existed around here, irritatingly enough. Well, _his_ privacy, at least.

Instead, he turned his attention to the letter, blinking in surprise when he saw there was only a single sentence written down in that familiar, elegant hand.

_The Furby is alive._

"Ah...well, shit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Kudos?


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, I'm honestly surprised you guys think this is funny. Humour is not my strong point. Thank you to all readers so far, and an extra to the two who gave me the ideas for certain bits of this chapter. I think you'll know who you are when you read through it, trust me.

Voldemort had no idea what to do. The Furby, the mother fucking Furby was _alive_. It was alive, craved his attention, and absolutely hated when anyone came near him, whether they be man or animal. Oddly enough, it behaved like a jealous infant.

The Dark Lord still had no idea how to get rid of it. With magic not helping him at all, he had resorted to Muggle means, tough, unfortunately, that hadn't helped either. Not even the gun!

He had even Apparated to the Canadian arctic, buried the Furby under the snow and ice, and returned to his manor, satisfied. Well, at least until the next day. Upon waking in the morning, he had found the blasted Furby sitting in the middle of his throne, hissing menacingly at a cowering Bellatrix.

_Everyone_ feared the Furby.

And with good reason too. How the hell had the toy even made it back to the manor anyway? He had left the thing across a bloody ocean!

Potter had better give him the counter now. A fucking _living_ Furby was the last thing he wanted to deal with. The stupid thing wouldn't stop following him either!

"Yes!" Voldemort was quite pleased when Potter's snowy white owl flew into the room. When she landed before him glaring, unimpressed at the hissing Furby, he took the sheet of parchment from her beak.

_Voldemort,_   
_I'm so sorry! I have no idea what my friends did to that Furby, but it definitely wasn't meant to come to life. I managed to get the counter from them though. They said you have to hug it, and doing so will negate the spells they placed on it. But they also said that if it's really alive now, the counter might not do anything._   
_Why not try locking it in a room with Wormtail? If anyone deserves the torture of dealing with a sentient Furby, it's that fucker._   
_Clearly I'm not bitter with him at all._   
_Harry Potter_

Voldemort stared at the letter, a deep frown on his face. He was going to have to _embrace_ the toy? He wasn't quite sure he wanted to touch the thing. But...doing so would probably help, right? With Bellatrix in the room though, he certainly wasn't going to do it here.

There was a simple solution to that though. He simply walked out of the room, and the Furby followed him. He led it to his study, locked the door, and turned to the toy, a vein in his temple twitching.

This had better work. He had things to do, and didn't have the time for this bullshit. He had far too many plans in motion to be ruined by a god damn toy!

Glaring viciously, the Dark Lord steeled himself, grabbed the Furby, and brought it to his chest, embracing it tightly. He held it there for a moment, then dropped it in pure disgust. It didn't move.

Relieved, Voldemort moved to the cabinet at the side of the room, and poured himself a drink. He definitely needed one...or three. Still, he was glad. One of his plans needed to be finalized in the next few days, especially as classes at Hogwarts were to begin in the next three weeks or so.

He would begin tomorrow.

Settling into bed for the night, the Dark Lord allowed sleep to overtake him. It took some time, but the drinks he'd had earlier helped. He was finally beginning to fall asleep...

"Daddy!"

Crimson eyes snapped open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The hug and the daddy were the two ideas given by a reviewer/commentator-no, I can't remember your names right now, and my internet is being weird. Sorry, but thanks for that! Comments? Kudos?


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, before I get to my usual gratitude, I do have one thing to say. I think someone has gone and cast Hastega on some of you. Shall I counter it with Slowga? I assure you, I know what I'm doing. This wasn't tagged as crack fic for a reason, despite what it seems. Anyway, thank you to all readers so far, and an extra to those who commented. You guys make my day. And forgive any typos. I pulled my back earlier, and it hurts like a bitch. Editing is hard to do right now.

Harry was in a pretty good mood. O.W.L results had just arrived, and the teen was pleased to see that despite the intense stress he had been feeling at the time, he had done a pretty good job. In fact, he had only failed Divination and History of Magic, but who cared about those? The only A he had gotten was in Astronomy, but he couldn't really be blamed for that, considering Umbridge had decided it was a good idea to attack McGonagall and Hagrid at the time. Other than that, his marks were split between O's and E's.

Just wanting to be alone for a little while, Harry wandered through Grimmauld Place, lost in thought. He really hated being stuck in this house like his godfather had been. He had actually tried to escape twice already, but had been caught fairly quickly both times.

Pleasant mood deteriorating, the emerald eyed teen began to scowl. He was sure that he'd have already gone insane if he hadn't been writing to Voldemort. Still, there were only two and a half weeks left in the break before school started up again. He would survive.

Speaking of Voldemort, he hoped the Dark Lord had managed to get rid of that Furby. He couldn't believe the thing had actually come to life. Fred and George definitely hadn't been aiming for that. In fact, they had no clue how it had even happened. Evidently it had been some strange reaction between magic and Muggle technology. Luckily, they hadn't told Mr Weasley about it.

But not even Voldemort deserved to have to deal with a sentient Furby. Wormtail and Umbridge did though. Yes, they definitely did deserve it.

Why was the Dark Lord writing to him anyway? What was the point of all this? Neither of them were really even revealing any secrets to one another, so why was he-why were _they_ still doing this? Harry didn't mind, of course, considering he was actually enjoying himself for once. Still...

How had no one stopped him yet? They knew he was writing to Voldemort. They had to. He'd mentioned it in the letter he'd sent to Dumbledore with the Voldeclown drawing, and he'd told Tonks about it too, the day she'd been attempting to stalk him. Hell, hadn't she ditched guard duty to tell Dumbledore about Voldemort's letter?

So then, why was no one saying anything about it? Why was no one doing anything about it? He knew they had read the most recent letter, but what about the ones from before? Had they read those too?

Hungry, and figuring it was about time for lunch, Harry made his way over to the basement kitchen, honestly surprised he had managed to stay alone for so long. Normally Ron and Ginny would have dragged him off by now, irritated by his-totally understandable-brooding.

Stepping into the kitchen, the first thing he noticed was Hedwig perched on one of the chairs. He hurried over, only to quickly realize she had nothing for him. Well, that was strange.

"Hey, girl. He didn't give you a response? The Furby didn't kill him, did it?"

Hedwig didn't get the chance to answer, because Mrs Weasley, who was also in the room, did so first.

"Oh, she came in with this, Harry dear," she said cheerfully, passing over a sheet of parchment. It was clear she had read this one too.

Harry didn't bother questioning that, and focused his attention on the letter, curious to see whether the Furby counter had worked.

_Potter,_   
_The counter did absolutely nothing. I left it at the top of Mount Everest. It got back to my manor before me._   
_It called me daddy._   
_Fix this. NOW!_   
_Voldemort_

"...Crap."

"Harry! Watch your language, young man!"

"Sorry, Mrs Weasley," the teen replied automatically, thoughts already focused on what he could do to help the Dark Lord. Though he did absently wonder why the woman had said nothing about who he was writing to. After all, Voldemort had signed the letter, right?

Now, what could he possibly do to stop what appeared to be a Furby that had become sentient due magic?

He blinked, frowned, then blinked again, before a sharp gasp left him and he rushed out of the room, his owl flying along behind him in an effort to follow her crazy master.

But...it couldn't be _that_ easy, could it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've already begun the next chapter and have written Harry's letter, so it should be up tomorrow, depending on how the laptop behaves; it's quite unpredictable, and I haven't the money to repair it. Comments? Kudos?


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still know what I'm doing. Anyway, thank you to all readers so far. Oh, and this chapter features the death of a 'character' I'm sure we'll all be pleased to see go.

Voldemort sat on his throne, impatiently waiting for Potter's reply. He had locked the stupid, fucking Furby in a room with Bellatrix. It had begun calling her 'mommy'. She was terrified of it. He didn't blame her for once.

He was quite pleased when the boy's owl flew into the room, and he took the letter from her immediately, impassive crimson eyes scanning the parchment quickly, eager to find a new counter.

_Voldemort,_   
_I can't believe I didn't think of this earlier; have you tried taking the batteries out of it? If that doesn't work, toss the fucker into the most active volcano in the world like it's the bloody One Ring._   
_Better yet, strap it to Wormtail and toss them both into the damn volcano. If that doesn't work either, lock it (and Wormtail) in a room with a Dementor. Maybe it has a soul now._   
_By the way, any idea why no one in the Order seems to give a damn that I'm writing to you? It's bloody weird, and I'm pretty sure they know, considering they read my mail before I do._   
_Harry Potter_

Voldemort raised a non-existent brow, momentarily forgetting about the Furby as he focused on the end of the letter.

The Order of the Phoenix knew he and Potter were writing to one another, but didn't care? That was...strange. Why were they still letting the boy write to him then? It wasn't as if he had bothered spelling the letter against anyone else reading it or anything. Neither were they writing in Parselscript.

Deciding to put it behind him for the time being, Voldemort summoned the Furby to himself, ignoring Bellatrix's cry of relief.

"Daddy! Daddy, daddy, daddy!"

Grimacing, the Dark Lord grabbed the toy, flipped it around, yanked off the cover, and tore the damn batteries out, vanishing them like he hadn't been able to do to the Furby.

"Daddy! Daddy! Da-" It broke off mid word and fell silent.

Relieved, but not willing to get his hopes up, Voldemort decided it would be best to wait before getting excited. Just in case. _Better yet..._

As Potter had suggested in his letter, he Apparated straight to the most active volcano he knew of, and with a very triumphant evil laugh, dropped the fluffy toy within. He stood there in the intense heat, watching as the Furby hit the lava and began to melt. He grinned like the Dark Lord he was, and returned home.

*Twenty Four Hours Later*

When Voldemort woke the next morning, he felt very cautious, worried his actions from the day before had failed like all other attempts thus far. He searched his entire manor, but didn't see hide or hair (or the equivalent) of the wretched Furby.

His relief only grew.

Suddenly, an owl flew into the room, drawing his attention to it. The first thing he noticed was that the bird didn't belong to Potter. In fact, he was quick to realize it belonged to none other than Severus Snape.

Wait, did that mean-?

He took the roll of parchment and read over it carefully, maniacal grin growing larger with each word. Finally, he began to chuckle, the sound starting of slow and deep, and getting louder and higher, echoing eerily within the vacated room.

"Finally! Muahahahaha!"

His latest plans were about to come to fruition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There should be about a week and a half until September first (fic timeline), which is when the seriousness should pick up. And no, I don't know how many more chapters that will take. Comments? Kudos? (I haven't gotten around to replying to comments from the previous chapter yet because I've been busy. It's on my to do list!)


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay. It's been a busy few weeks because of mothers with cleaning sprees, visiting relatives, an aunt worse than Petunia Dursley, and a brother's religious wedding. Forgive me?

Harry wasn't sure whether he should feel excited or not. September first was a mere week away, but the teen was honestly beginning to feel a little resigned. Something bad  _always_ happened to him at Hogwarts. He really doubted this year was going to be any different.

_At least the toad will be gone. What kind of toad likes cats anyway? Trevor hates Crookshanks, after all. Poor Crooks. Who knew Trevor could be so evil? ...Wonder what Neville's been teaching him._

Still, that raised the question of who the new Defence professor would be, if Dumbledore ever found them. Would they try to kill him again? Probably. Would it actually be on Voldemort's orders this time? Eh, it was hard to say. It was a fifty/fifty chance, really.

"Oh, there you are, Harry!" Ron exclaimed, wandering into the room. "The book lists are finally here!"

The emerald eyed teen accepted his own with a raised brow. Their arrival only meant that Dumbledore had finally managed to fill the constantly vacant DADA position. Well, this was strange timing, wasn't it? Meh, at least he was going to be able to get out of this house for a little while. He needed to make a visit to Diagonal Alley, after all. He wasn't about to allow anyone to convince him otherwise.

It was later that evening when Harry was in the middle of, erm,  _private time_ , when Ginny burst into the room, Hedwig flying in behind her. Glad he'd been...polishing his sword under the blankets- _Dammit, Aragorn, you sexy bastard!_ -Harry eyed the scantily clad redhead, and sighed.  _Whelp, that's one way to kill my boner_ , he thought in irritation.

Ginny, who didn't seem to have noticed anything, stepped closer, waving a sheet of parchment in the air. "Hedwig brought you a letter!" she exclaimed cheerfully, even though there was no reason to be so excited. She passed the missive over as the snowy white owl flew over to her perch.

Harry glanced down at the signature, noticed it was Voldemort's, and wondered why Ginny didn't appear at all alarmed, despite clearly haven already read the letter. He was just about to ask, when the girl spoke.

"So, what've you been up to, Harry?" she asked curiously. "You've been holed up in here since you finished dinner!"

"I've been very, very busy," he replied after a pause.

"Busy doing what?"

"Fantasizing."

"Fantasizing?"

"Yep."

"About what?"

"The King of Gondor and his throne."

"W-wha-? Who?"

"Now, get out."

Ginny ran out of the room. Smirking because he hadn't actually been lying, Harry turned his attention back to the letter. He had forgotten about the Dark Lord while being a teenager.

_Potter,_

_Your suggestions worked. I removed the batteries and discarded the beast in a rather active volcano. It has not come back._

_Send me another Furby and I will murder all those you care for in their sleep. Oh, and I do hope you are looking forward to the upcoming school year._

_Voldemort_

"...I don't know why, but that last bit there sounded pretty bloody menacing."

Hedwig hooted and bobbed her head in agreement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm in a weird mood, I don't know. BTW, in case you don't already know, the laptop no longer works, and I'm doing this on my mum's old iPad, so forgive me if this ended up formatted weird. Comments? Kudos?


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo. Any idea why I can't paste things here or on FFN while using an iPad? Because being unable to do so means I have to type each chapter out twice using this weird touch keyboard, and it takes double the time to get anything done. ...I miss the laptop. Thank you to all readers so far, and an extra thanks to those who took the time to comment!

For the first time in a long while, Lord Voldemort was in a surprisingly good mood. After a summer of constantly failing plans, it was...fantastic to finally have something actually going in his favour.

He smirked. Dumbledore had no idea what was coming to him.

The man walked through the deserted corridor, making his way to his quarters, lost in thought. He had many other plans in motion now, new plans he was leaving select trusted Death Eaters in charge of. Hopefully they would be careful not to disappoint him. These plans were too important for foolish failures.

If all went well, though he'd never been particularly optimistic, the Ministry of Magic would be in his control within the year.

"Hoot, hoot,"

"Ah, back again, owl?"

"Hoot," the snowy white feathered bird replied in affirmation, before extending a leg.

Voldemort accepted the offered letter, before conjuring a large, fat mouse for the owl. Turning his attention to the parchment, he unrolled it and began to read.

_Voldemort_

_So, I just had a question. Do you know who the new Defence professor at Hogwarts is going to be? I just want to know what the chances of them trying to kill me are. I mean, the Dursleys try to kill me all the time, but at least I know what to expect with them. Last year with Umbridge was bad enough, what with that stupid Blood Quill of hers. Is she a Death Eater? She's certainly sadistic enough. She even nearly Crucioed me once._

_By the way, I still have no idea why no one around here seems to care that we're writing to each other. Honestly, it makes no sense! We aren't even talking about anything serious, so they can't be waiting for you to reveal information or something...are they? Either way, you're too careful for that, even I know that much._

_And 'muahaha'? Really? I pictured you are more of a 'Kufufu' sort of guy. ...Or maybe that's just because I can't help but compare you to Orochimaru. I think you'd be good friends. Similar interests and all._

_Harry Potter_

Once he had reached the end of the letter, Voldemort's smirk faded into a frown as his gaze travelled back up to the beginning of the missive. Discounting the final paragraph, Potter had revealed some very shocking and disturbing things. Did the teen even realize what exactly he had written?

"It appears I have some new plans to juggle," he murmured in a dangerously soft voice, crimson irises burning through their glamour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember, things will be getting a little more serious now. I'm not removing the humour though, don't worry. Comments? Kudos?


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait. But guess what? The laptop's back! And so far, it's been working just fine. Gotta admit I'm a bit paranoid though. After dealing with it shutting off at any moment for a year, it's hard to get used to. Also, I'd like to point out, I know Naruto didn't exist yet, but I don't care. I don't think Tickle-Me Elmo did either. So yeah, ignore that certain things wouldn't have been invented yet if I bring it up, yeah?

Harry was walking through Diagon Alley, a little irritated by the amount of people stalking him. Was Snape the only Order member who knew the definition of the word 'stealth'? ...Actually, he probably was.

Giving his head a little shake, the teen continued on to Gringotts, needing to refill his coin pouch before buying what he needed. He was honestly a little surprised by the amount of arguing and cajoling he'd had to do to even be _allowed_ to go to the bank. Why were they so desperate to keep him away?

Well, now that they'd gotten him curious...

"...Oh. Well, no _wonder_ they didn't want me finding all this out." Harry was seated in one of the many offices in Gringotts with the head Goblin Ragnok, and had just learned some _very_ interesting things. He was happy with what he had discovered, and at the same time, furious.

He was furious that his birthright had been kept from him. Furious that his parents' wills had all but gone ignored. And they dared think he would silently do as asked and blindly follow them?

But that still left questions he had no answer to, the most important of which was ' _why_ '? Why do all that? Why keep from him what was his right to know? Why ignore the final desires of the two who had literally given their lives for their cause? And why, oh why had no one yet broached the subject of their Saviour writing to, and receiving letters from, the Dark Lord?

Harry left Gringotts in a huff, a scowl on his face and the footsteps of his rapidly approaching stalkers loud in his ears as they closed in on him. Since they hadn't been allowed inside with him, he knew they had a lot of questions, worried about what he might now know.

Well, he had no desire to reveal any of that. ...Yet.

He was abruptly pulled out of his thoughts, when someone suddenly grabbed him by the arm. Brow furrowing in frustration, he whipped around, intending on snapping at which ever stalker had the audacity to grab hold of him like that, only to have the words die on the tip of his tongue. He had come face to face, or rather, face to chest with a rather tall man with chestnut coloured hair and eyes.

Harry stared, blinked, then opened his mouth to speak, only to have his jaw snap shut when the man leaned down, his lips brushing the teen's ear.

"Kufufu..." he voiced softly. And with that, the man straightened up, released him, and vanished in the crowd.

"...Eh?" Harry just stood there, blinking rapidly, even as the stalkers surrounded him, making sure he was okay, while simultaneously peering around for the mysterious man, and firing off questions at him.

Harry didn't answer them though, still staring at the spot where the man had vanished. "What? What? What the fuck was that?"

Had Voldemort really disguised himself and come all the way to Diagon Alley, _just_ to laugh evilly in Harry's ear for two seconds? ... _Why_? There was a pause, before, suddenly-

"...I can see!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Sorry about the lack of a letter. There will be one in the next chapter. Promise. Comments? Kudos?


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to ignore pain makes for good inspiration, so yeah, here's another chapter. It's not particularly funny, but at least it's longer than the last one. Thank you to all readers so far! And sorry about this chap not being in Voldy's POV!

Harry was seated in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express, munching on various sweets he had bought off the trolly as he chatted with his friends Neville and Luna. As Prefects, Ron and Hermione were busy patrolling the train. Or, at least Hermione was. Ron was probably stuffing his face somewhere. Either way, they'd be back soon.

"You look very handsome without your glasses, Harry," said Luna suddenly, sounding as if she were merely stating a well known fact.

Unable to help himself, the raven haired teen chortled, unobstructed emerald eyes glittering in content. "Thanks, Luna."

"How did you manage to get rid of them anyway?" asked Neville curiously. "I thought Madam Pomfrey said you couldn't because your vision was too bad?"

Harry didn't deny this, and nodded in agreement. "She did say that, and honestly, I have no idea how it happened. Voldemort's bloody weird that way."

Though Luna didn't react, Neville stared, his jaw having dropped in shock. "What...? What does _he_ have to do with this?" he questioned.

"Well, we've been writing back and forth all summer, and he was the one who fixed my eyesight. Though, to be honest, I have no idea how or why."

"But...but that makes no sense!"

Luna, however, spoke before Harry could. "The Birds were not concerned," she stated.

"They didn't say a thing about it," Harry agreed with an incline of his head. "Even though they saw most of the letters-even the ones he actually signed as 'Voldemort'."

"That doesn't make sense either!"

Harry just laughed again. "Probably best not to think about it too much, Nev." After all, hadn't Hermione told him in their first year that wizards lacked all sense of logic?

The compartment door suddenly opened, and Ron and Hermione stumbled in. The girl, for some strange reason, had Hedwig perched on her shoulder. The owl flew to her master the moment she saw him, landing on his lap and nipping gently at his fingers.

"Hey there, girl. Why didn't you come to me directly?" It was strange for her not to have done so.

"I think she just wanted to say 'hi'," said Hermione with a smile, shooting a frown at a red eared Ron. "She had this for you," she added, holding a roll of parchment out for the Boy-Who-Lived. "Don't worry! I didn't read it!" And indeed she hadn't, for it was still sealed.

_At least someone respects the concept of privacy._ "Thanks, Hermione," he replied, giving her a genuine smile, which had Ron glowering. Deciding to ignore his friends and Ron for the time being, Harry unrolled the parchment and began to read.

_Potter,_

_I must say, it was a surprise seeing you emerging from Gringotts the other day. I thought you were being confined by the fools? Have you finally learned the truth of your birthright? It's about time. Are you still planning on blindly following the old fool like you have been doing thus far? Or are you finally going to begin questioning things?_

_I do hope you enjoyed your present. Consider it part one of your late birthday gift, if you will. You will see part two before the night is through. That I can assure you._

_Voldemort_

"...Smug bastard."

Hedwig hooted in agreement, while both master and familiar wondered what this second gift was going to be.

* * *

After finally making it to Hogwarts, Harry entered the Great Hall, and after saying goodbye to Luna, made his way over to Gryffindor Table. Once he was seated with his friends and the two Weasleys, he poured himself some water, and turned his attention to Hermione, intent on continuing the conversation that had been cut off more than once because of Ron and Ginny's impatience and ignorance.

"I'm still only on the second part of the first one," he was saying. "Thanks for lending it to me by the way. Dudley tore my copy ages ago."

"No problem, Harry. Although, please don't ever take it over there! ...What part are you on?" asked the bushy haired witch curiously, simply pleased she at least had one friend who enjoyed to read at times.

"Still in Moria," replied Harry, eyes flickering up to the Staff Table to check if Hagrid had come back from escorting the first years. "They just found Balin's tomb. I completely forgot just how sassy Gandalf i-" he broke off, staring, emerald eyes wide with shock.

"Harry?"

"...Our new Defence professor..."

"What about him?" Hermione looked now too, along with everyone else within earshot.

Harry didn't have to ask anyone who the new DADA professor was, because the man seated next to a deeply scowling Snape was none other than-

"That son of a fuck!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (^_^') Sorry? Comments? Kudos?


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recently took the Patronus quiz on Pottermore, and apparently, my Patronus is a hyena. ...Yeah, not sure how to feel about that. ...I'm calling it Ed. Credit for the first three paragraphs goes to SweetDarkSilence!

"Potter!" called Snape, who had somehow managed to hear his exclamation from across the room. "Twenty points from Gryffindor! Control your foul language!"

Harry just shoved his gold plate and goblet away, and dropped his head down, bashing it against the wooden table once, then twice.

"Ten more points for damage to school property!"

But Harry had no concern for lost House points. Instead, he slammed his hands onto the table and got to his feet. "Nope! That's it! Fuck it! I'm done!" He made for the massive doors of the Hall. "Peace out!"

And with that, Harry Potter left the Great Hall, already debating on the best way to get completely and utterly pissed.

The new Defence professor meanwhile, began to chuckle in amusement. "See that, Snape? That was _all_ Lily. She was one _dramatic_ woman."

Snape merely scowled, not at all liking the reminder. He hated when people brought up the topic of his very first friend...

Harry had only just made it up to the Defence corridor, when a wild Hedwig appeared, the evening edition of the Daily Prophet tied to her leg, and a letter clamped in her beak.

Eyes narrowed, the raven haired teen took the newspaper, only having to glance at the front page to realize he _hadn't_ gone batshit insane and begun to hallucinate in the Great Hall earlier.

Tossing the Prophet aside like the rag that it was, he accepted the letter, turning his attention to that instead, already positive he knew who it was from.

_Potter,_  
_I trust you have seen the second half of your late birthday present by now? And the explanation in the Daily Prophet? It may be a rather large shock, though I assure you, it did not cost me anything of importance._  
_Now, ask yourself this: what do you owe me in return?_  
_Voldemort_

"...Fuck!" Crumpling the parchment in his fist, Harry entered the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, then stalked up to the professor's office, glowering until the door swung open on its own.

Glaring, he dropped down onto a tacky, yet very comfortable red armchair, and focused his furious emerald gaze on the door, waiting...waiting...waiting...

The Welcoming Feast came to an end, the students all headed for the dorms, while the adults made their way to their personal rooms in various parts in (and in Hagrid's case, out) of the castle.

The Defence professor was slowly striding to his own, deciding to cut through his new classroom and office on his way, since it was a bit of a shortcut, and the quicker he got to bed, the better.

When he finally made it to his office, he paused in place, hand on the doorknob (he hadn't gotten around to setting a password just yet). It felt like something _very_ dangerous was on the other side.

Feeling uncharacteristically apprehensive, the man pulled out his wand, turned the knob, and stepped inside...only to be met by a pair of murderous, emerald eyes. "...Uh oh."

"Uh oh? Uh oh!? Is that all you have to say!?"

"Er-I can explain?"

Harry shot to his feet, his magic crackling and whipping around him like the winds of a hurricane. "Sirius Orion Black! You son of a bitch!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...*Shines fingernails* So, how many of you just lost a bet? Comments? Kudos?


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all readers so far!

"...Well, you're right on both counts there. It's also my initials!"

"You fuck! I thought you were de-wait, what?"

The man grinned, looking quite proud of himself. Only Sirius would be proud of the fact that his initials also stood for something as vulgar as 'son of a bitch'.

Harry just sighed. This was Sirius alright. There was no way this was an impostor. Angry and frustrated, he strode forward, a glare on his face, and with a single, swift movement, he hit Sirius with a furious European uppercut.

The man's head jerked back sharply. "Gah, fuck!" He spat out some blood, dabbing at his mouth with the sleeve of his robe. "Merlin, that actually _really_ hurt!"

Harry's glare remained firmly in place.

"...Right, I deserved it?"

"Yes, you did!" the teen exclaimed. Energy suddenly sapped, he lowered back down in the red armchair from before. "Look," he spoke, calmer now, emerald gaze fixed on his godfather, "I love you, and I missed you, and I'm sure as hell glad you're alive, but-but why aren't you dead!? I-I watched you fall! I don't-I don't-"

Sirius sighed softly, actually feeling bad now. He sat down on a couch opposite his godson, the coffee table between them-just in case. Running his fingers through his hair, he debated on how to answer Harry's questions, wondering why he didn't think of this before. James definitely would have hit him too. Lily would have just kicked him in the balls and then walked away. He winced at the very thought.

"Still waiting here."

"Right." Pulling himself out of his thoughts, Sirius sighed again. "I _did_ fall through the veil," he spoke suddenly, "and I _did_ die. But I didn't stay dead for long."

Harry blinked, curious despite himself. "What do you mean? What happened?" He had heard of near death experiences before, of course. Was that what had occurred here?

Sirius shrugged unconcernedly. "Mum kicked me out."

"..."

"..."

"...What?" The teen stared, emerald eyes wide and confused. "Your mum... _kicked_ you out of the _afterlife_?"

"Yep! And that's how I came back to life!" he grinned. "Next thing I knew, Wormtail and I were being questioned at the Ministry, he was shipped off to Azkaban, and I was officially declared innocent. ...No idea how it happened though, but I'm hardly complaining. I'd love to shake the hand of the person who got me freed, that's for sure!"

"Yeah, well, you can thank Voldemort for that," Harry muttered. "I'm sure if you asked nicely, he'd be delighted to shake your hand."

"..."

"..."

"...What?"

Unable to help himself, Harry snickered. "It was Voldemort's birthday present to me. Well, part of it, at least. He was the one to fix my eyesight too."

"... _What!?_ "

"Good night, _Professor_!" And with that, Harry left the room, leaving a very confused godfather behind him, and made his way up to Gryffindor Tower, wondering what he could possibly say to the Dark Lord in response to what he had done for him.

"Harry!" exclaimed Ron-the-possible-drug-lord, once the raven haired teen entered the Common Room. "Where've you been?"

Harry barely spared him a glance. "Uppercutting a professor," was all he said before heading up to the dorm, leaving a baffled Ron in his wake, mouth hanging open disgustingly, a very suspicious white powder visible within it.

A few minutes later, settled in bed, Harry smirked, finally having thought of what he was going to say in his next letter to Voldemort. The Dark Lord was not going to be pleased.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, not as good as usual, I know. Shit's just getting harder to deal with every bloody day, so you'll have to deal. Comments? Kudos?


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are just perfectly glorious, you know? ...I had to do it. I'm still riding on the highs of last night's Takeover:Toronto. Have a feeling Survivor Series won't make me feel as good though, unfortunately. Thank you to all readers so far!

Voldemort was feeling quite content at the moment, surprising as it certainly was. His newest plans, after months of preparation had finally recently been put into action, and appeared to be going very well so far.

How wonderful!

Lucius was keeping himself busy at the Ministry, Narcissa was off plotting with the House Elves again, Wormtail was finally out of his hai-face, Bellatrix was in another therapy session with Dr Greyback (that Furby had _really_ traumatized her), the others were actually doing what they had been ordered to, and he himself was to receive a gift soon.

Yes, all was well.

And that was when the owl arrived.

Voldemort watched the white feathered bird fly around the throne room almost teasingly, his crimson slitted eyes narrowing when he caught sight of a letter, but no sign of a package. The brat hadn't gifted him anything!? Well that was hardly fair!

When the owl landed on the arm of his throne, he removed the letter, glaring all the while. The bird merely returned the look in stony silence. If she had fingers instead of wings, he was sure she would be flipping him off right about now.

...Perhaps it would be best of he just read the letter now.

_Voldemort,_   
_First off, because I'm a decent human being, thank you for fixing my eyesight and committing illegal and immoral acts of necromancy to bring by godfather back to life. By the way, he said his mum kicked him out of the afterlife. You wouldn't happen to know something about that, would you? Either way, I'm glad I won't have to worry about the Defence professor trying to kill me for once. It's a fucking miracle!_   
_Second, no, I don't have anything to repay you with just yet. You did this for me as a birthday present, which means you'll have to wait until your own birthday to get something in return. Sorrynotsorry._   
_Don't worry, December thirty first isn't that far away, right?_   
_Harry Potter_

"December!? I don't want to wait that long! Fucking brat and his Gryffindorish sentimentality." Never mind the fact that _he_ had been the one to gift the teen on his birthday first.

The white owl hooted at him incredulously, telling him that he was a Dark Lord and needed to pull himself together. Or else...

For some reason, Voldemort didn't doubt the treat at all, even though he shouldn't even have understood it. And if Nagini slithered into the room a moment later, and told him he was pouting like a petulant, lipless child, well, no one else was there to call him out on it.

"Enough of this," he muttered to himself, pushing the thoughts to the back of his mind for the time being. He slid to his feet and made his way through the manor and over to the study, summoning a few of his Death Eaters to him as he did so.

He had a raid to plain in an appalling neighbourhood, and three very unfortunate Muggles to capture, interrogate, and torture. Though, perhaps not in that exact order. if he had any say in it, which he obviously did.

Dumbledore and his obnoxious Light fools had begun to underestimate him again, and it was time to remind them that there was a reason why he was the Darkest Lord since the last one. ...That didn't sound particularly menacing, did it? Well no matter. He would _make_ it sound menacing.

...Now he just needed to find a big enough box...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's a short one, but I figured this was a good place to end it. Comments? Kudos?


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...It's cold. Thank you to all readers so far!

Mr and Mrs Dursley of Number Four Privet Drive were proud to say that they were terrified out of their fucking minds, thank you very much.

After their horrid nephew had left the other week, they had been under the impression that they weren't going to have to see or deal with the freaks until the next summer.

As it turned out, they were wrong.

And if their nephew/cousin was a freak, then the...thing they were cowering before now was the ultimate of all freaks!

Lord Voldemort just chuckled lowly. He had already made three mind trips via Occlumency, and was beyond furious with what he had learned. It was actually quite surprising Potter hadn't turned out worse, considering the way he had been brought up.

The Dursleys, meanwhile, just knew that they were well and truly fucked. Whelp, sucks to be them.

* * *

The first week of classes were uneventful, in Harry's opinion. Sirius wasn't a bad teacher at all (though Remus was still better), but, more importantly, Voldemort still hadn't replied to his last letter. That definitely wasn't normal, especially since he knew the Dark Lord had been annoyed when he'd read the missive. The Death Eaters had been oddly quiet recently too, so there was that as well. And on top of all of that, Dumbledore hadn't once asked to talk to him about how he and Voldemort had been writing to one another for at least half the summer. Sirius hadn't said anything either. Neither had Ron or Ginny.

...What the fuck was _wrong_ with everyone?

Hermione had been quite shocked when he had explained things to her, and had at first thought everyone had been cursed not to care so they wouldn't interfere in whatever it was that Voldemort was plotting. At least, until she'd learned Dumbledore was doing the same thing as the rest. Wasn't he too strong and smart to fall for something like that? But then, what was going on? Did it really just...not matter to them?

"Maybe they're just waiting for him to start revealing plans to you?" Neville suggested on Saturday morning a few days later while they sat at Gryffindor Table.

Harry sighed, picking at his bacon. "But you'd think they'd have realized by now that he's too smart for that. There's no way he'd just start telling me important stuff like that, and frankly, I don't care enough to ask."

Hermione eyed him closely. "Do you _like_ this...thing the two of you have going on?"

Harry shrugged somewhat helplessly. "I know it makes me sound completely crazy, but yeah, I honestly do." He finished off his goblet of milk, absently wondering when his growth spurt would kick in, and then glowered when Ron pilfered the bacon off his plate. "I felt so...normal exchanging those letters with him. It-it was fun."

The girl just looked at him sadly. They should have been completely against Voldemort and everything he stood for, and yet, even she had noticed the difference in her friend. Harry had come across as being genuinely happy. Was that...was that wrong?

She really had no idea what to think about all this, and she certainly didn't understand it. Weirdly enough, Harry's correspondence with the Dark Lord actually made _more_ sense than everyone else's reactions to it.

All three teens were pulled out of their respective thoughts when hundreds of owls flew into the Hall to deliver the morning post. Everybody's attention was quickly drawn to a large package (probably under a feather-light charm) being carried by a single dark feathered owl. And it was heading straight for Harry.

He quickly pushed his dishes out of the way to make space, and stared in confusion at the box. What could it possibly be?

"Open in, Potter!" Draco Malfoy called from Slytherin Table, a smirk on his face. Clearly he already knew the answer.

Harry, Hermione, and Neville exchanged puzzled looks, even as Ron, who was still wolfing his breakfast down obliviously, didn't notice. With a shrug, the green eyed teen just listened to Malfoy and did as he had said. What the heck could go wrong? It wasn't as if anyone was making any move to stop him.

Pulling off the paper, he opened the flaps and peered inside curiously, Hermione leaning across the table and Neville easing in closer to do the same.

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Oh, I think I'm going to be sick," Hermione groaned. She paused, as if she were in thought, glanced into the box again, then added, "Yeah, definitely going to be sick." She hurried out of the Hall, Neville not very far behind her.

Harry just continued to stare, mind not really registering what _exactly_ he was seeing. His gaze was only torn away when Hedwig landed nearby. She had a letter for him. Hands trembling slightly, he took it from her and quickly began to read.

_Potter,_   
_Normally I would curse you for not immediately gifting me in return, but as you are a Gryffindor, I admit I should have seen your response coming. Be sure to know I will kill you extremely painfully if you do not reciprocate on the thirty first of December._   
_What you no doubt see before you now, however, is a gift by no means. As no one else seems to have cared for this common sense or decency, I have decided to take matters into my own hands. And before you ask, yes, they suffered very much for what they have done._   
_Thank me._   
_Voldemort_

Harry couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of him, a sound that was half amusement and half relief, which only prompted shocked stares from the Slytherins who already knew what the box contained.

At the same moment, however, a large menacing looking owl dropped a letter before Dumbledore up on the Staff Table. The Headmaster glanced down at it, but made no move to open or read it, choosing to ignore it for the time being instead.

But even though the letter wasn't a Howler, it suddenly began to read itself in a loud, yet low, and very cold voice.

_I do not take kindly to child abuse, Albus Dumbledore, no matter the identity of the victim. If you continue to condone it the way you are, do not be surprised if those very same victims turn against you one day._

There was a very, very long and deafening silence in the Great Hall, no one able to believe what they had just heard. It simply couldn't be possible! ...Could it?

"Hedwig!" Harry exclaimed suddenly, breaking the shocked silence that had fallen. "Put that finger down! Do you _know_ where Dudley's been!?"

What was even going on anymore?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the seriousness but it needed to be done. Hopefully the next chapter will be a little more light hearted. Maybe. Who knows? Comments? Kudos?


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Wow. I can't believe how many of you like this. And here I've been told I'm not funny. Weird. Thank you to all readers so far, and an extra thanks to everyone who left a comment! This is freaking insane guys!

Once the initial shock and confusion wore off, the bravest Gryffindors moved along the table to take a peek at the contents of the package, soon followed by the most curious members of the other three Houses.

The next few moments were filled with students running out of the Great Hall, gagging and retching. The less brave and curious were too apprehensive to go look too. That, or they already knew what the box contained and had no desire to see it first hand. *Cough*The Slytherins*Cough*

The professors were just plain horrified, not only at what their student had been sent, but also with what the _Headmaster_ had just been accused of in that letter. Who had sent it anyway? It hadn't been signed. Though that voice had sounded quite eerie.

The twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes had vanished, as the cogs in his mind worked at full speed, trying to come up with a way to get out of this mess. ...Stupid Voldemort ruining all his best plans.

Ron Weasley, meanwhile, hadn't even noticed what had happened, too busy stuffing his face from the large place of food that was placed right next to the box of severed fingers. ...It was probably a good thing there wasn't anything more in the box. The smell itself would have been absolutely vile.

Harry, however, was far too busy to pay any attention to what was happening around him. He was too focused on his owl "I'll trade you this slice of bacon for that finger."

Hedwig released a muffled hoot, that meant something along the lines of, "But the finger has more fat on it than the bacon!"

Harry certainly couldn't argue with that. ...Dammit. "Two slices?"

"Hoot."

"You can't have the whole plate, Hedwig! Three, then?"

"Hoot."

"Four?"

"Hooooot?"

"Five. I'm not going above that!"

"...Hoot hoot?"

Harry sighed in exasperation. "Alright, fine, five and a half."

"Hoot!" Dropping the finger that had once belonged to her master's cousin, she took up her five and a half slices of bacon in trade, and flew off cheerfully, leaving dozens staring after her in confusion. Today was a good day for Hedwig the owl.

The emerald eyed teen stared into the box, his head cocked in confusion. "What the hell am I supposed to do with this?" he questioned in a mutter. He knew it wasn't showing, but he was genuinely shocked right now. He wasn't upset, as many no doubt believed he was, because he fucking _hated_ the Dursleys.

And while he had never been particularly subtle about the abuse he had suffered, it was just _really_ weird that _Voldemort_ of all people had been the only adult to actually _do_ something about it. He just...didn't know how to feel about that.

He was happy that the Dursleys were gone forever, of course. _It was nothing less than they deserved_ , he thought mutinously. Still, Voldemort was Voldemort and didn't he always have ulterior motives? And then there was that letter he had sent to Dumbledore, and read out loud to the entire Hall.

Just what was he playing at?

"Hello Mr Dursley, Mrs Dursley, Mr Dursley," came a sudden voice from nearby. Luna had arrived, and she was peering into the package as dreamily as ever. She looked to Harry now, and smiled sweetly and innocently. "The Sniffle McWidgets warned me about their arrival. It's a good thing you didn't let Hedwig eat the fingers. They're infested with parasites!"

Harry just blinked. Having absolutely no idea what the girl was talking about, but completely used to it, he merely smiled and nodded, watching as she left the Hall, humming happily. He had only just turned, when Dumbledore approached, McGonagall and Snape following behind him, and Sirius, behind them.

What the heck had taken them so long!? One of their _students_ had just received the _severed remains_ of his _relatives_ in the bloody _post_ , obviously sent by the _Dark Lord_. It had been a good ten minutes since he had opened the box. What if they Dursleys' zombies had been in there instead!? He'd have become breakfast for the undead!

...Maybe he should be the first to start marketing zombie food for the inevitable zombie population. ' _Brain brand zombie chow. Filling and grotesquely delicious! Healthy for the entire zombie clan, and all for the cheap price of not eating the rest of us!_ ' Yeah, that sounded perfe-oh, wait.

Harry hadn't realized it, but Dumbledore was in the middle of a lecture or tangent or something or another. He hadn't heard a single word of it, too lost in his thoughts. McGonagall, Snape, and Sirius looked oddly uncomfortable though.

"-and that's why one should never mix lemon drops with vodka," Dumbledore finished sagely.

The teen blinked, emerald eyes displaying his confusion. "Riiight, yes, sir, I'll be sure to never mix the two." There was a beat of silence. "Sooo, are you going to do something about these fingers? They're quite traumatizing, you know? In more ways than one."

"Oh, yes, yes of course. I'll just-" The Headmaster flicked his wrist, and the box of fingers began to float between them. McGonagall looked quite sick, Sirius appeared rather alarmed, and Snape looked a fair bit paler than usual.

"Is it true?" questioned Sirius suddenly, shock quickly becoming anger. "Those fuckers _abused_ my _godson_ and you did _nothing_ to stop it!? And-" he peered down at Harry. "Who did this again?"

"Voldemort," the teen supplied casually.

Sirius' head snapped back up. "And _Voldemort_ of all people chose to help hi-wait, Voldemort?"

Once again, silence blanketed the Great Hall, everyone still there beginning to link things together now.

Harry Potter had been getting abused by his relatives. Dumbledore had known all about it. Voldemort had found out too, but instead of just sitting around, he had gone and killed the three abusers. And to top it all off, _Voldemort_ had accused _Dumbledore_ of allowing the students of the school to be abused in the first place.

...This was so surreal!

Who was in the wrong here? Dumbledore or Voldemort?

Dumbledore had always done what was best for them all, right? But, child abuse was _really_ bad! And if Dumbledore knew it was happening to someone, but did nothing about it, then...that was just as bad, right? Voldemort took care of it, but then...did that make him...good?

Ugh, this was so confusing!

The students waited for the Headmaster to answer Professor Black, but he never did. Without a word, he just turned and left, whistling a jaunty tune while the box of severed fingers floated along before him.

Why hadn't he said anything? What hadn't he explained? He had had the perfect chance. Was he hiding something? Did he just not care what they thought? Even as they all began to turn to Harry for an answer of some sort, it was the red head beside him who spoke, breaking the silence.

Ron's head snapped up so quickly it was surprising he didn't give himself whiplash. Blue eyes wide, he looked up and down Gryffindor Table in alarm, almost as if he were having a nightmare. "Where..."

"What?" Harry peered over in confusion, yanked out of his stupor. "Where what?" he questioned.

"Where...where the bloody hell is my bacon!?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Yeah. I don't even know where half of that came from. Comments? Kudos?


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all readers so far! I can't focus properly today, so forgive any mistakes I may have missed.

Voldemort was not at all in a good mood. Why were so many of his followers so bloody incompetent? Ask them to do one little thing, and they would fuck it up somehow. Even if he asked them to get him a simple mug of coffee. Really?

He had some very important plans taking place at the Ministry, but as expected, those idiots had screwed up and nearly destroyed all his hard work. It was a good thing he had a back up plan prepared.

...Maybe he needed to start screening those wishing to follow him. Perhaps have them pass a series of tests before they could qualify to become Death Eaters. Yes, yes that would be for the best.

He was still incredibly frustrated though, already aware of, and not looking forward to the sleepless nights he had ahead of him. Unfortunately, all this had set back his 'Hogwarts' plans as well, which certainly wasn't helping matters at all...

Three days of zero rest passed. Voldemort sat at his desk in his study, exhausted but hard at work. It had taken some time, but things were finally beginning to move in his favour once more, though he still had much to do. Still, he was at least going to be able to get some sleep tonight, which was a relief in itself.

Suddenly, Nagini slithered into the room, the door automatically opening for her, as it had been charmed to do. **"Master, you are still awake? I can smell that you are tired. When will you rest?"**

**"Tonight, lovely one, tonight."**

**"Good. That owl has come again. The pretty white one."**

**"I'm still not letting you eat her, Nagini."**

If snakes could pout, Nagini would have done so. Instead, she just hissed in irritation. **"Then give me a rat."**

Voldemort knew better than to argue, and simply conjured a fat rat, that ran out of the room immediately, already aware of its fate. Nagini hissed an eerie sort of laugh, and chased after the rat. Just as the door began to shut behind her, the snow white owl flew into the room, landing on the large desk, just shy of the parchments he had been working on.

Good owl.

She had a letter for him, along with a small package. He raised a hairless brow. Had Potter decided not to wait until his birthday in December after all? Odd, though he certainly wasn't complaining. He could definitely use a gift after the stress of the last few days.

He went for the letter first though, curious to know what the brat felt about those filthy Muggle relatives of his being dead. He hadn't meant to send those severed fingers to him, but he had been drunk, and hadn't even realized he had done it until Lucius had told him once he'd been sober.

_Voldemort,_

_To be honestly, for once in my life, I actually have no idea what to say. Am I supposed to be mad, or thank you? To tell you the truth, I'm leaning more towards the latter. I'm sure no one else will agree with me though. They'll probably think I'm insane, though it wouldn't be the first time, would it?_

_Why are you bothering to make my life better and easier if you're just going to kill me? Is there a point to all this? To getting Sirius pardoned and killing the Dursleys? Are you trying to make it so I'll feel even worse when you kill me? You're a Dark Lord, so I guess it does make sense, right?_

_Did you see the article on the front page of the Daily Prophet the other day? It was all about your accusations against Dumbledore. He looked pretty shocked in that picture, didn't he? I'm pretty sure Colin's behind that. He's always carrying that camera around with him._

_A lot of students are really confused right now, no matter their...affiliation in this war. I don't think they know who to believe here. I think a fair few of them have been abused themselves, and I can't say I'd put it past Dumbledore to ignore their pleas for help. I don't think they can anymore either, so if you were trying to plant seeds of doubt at Hogwarts by sending him that letter, you've definitely succeeded._

_I don't really know how to say this, but I'm a little stuck now. I'm supposed to be the Saviour for the Light, but I'm really starting to question that. Others are too._

_What even is the point of this war? Why are the 'Light' and the 'Dark' even fighting in the first place? Getting rid of all Muggles and Muggleborns is impossible, but so is trying to rid the world of all 'Dark' Wizards and magic._

_Sorry for rambling, I'm just really confused right now. I guess I'm kind of hoping you can answer some of my questions? Dumbledore certainly won't, and to be frank, I want to know what exactly I'm supposed to be fighting for in the first place._

_Harry Potter_

_PS. You still have to wait until your birthday for a proper present, but I figured I should give you something in...thanks anyway. It'll be pretty useful if you're trying to ruin Dumbledore. I hate that old man, so I don't care if you...release it to the general public. Just uh, keep my name out of it, yeah?_

Surprised and quite confused, the man set the parchment down on his desk, and reached for the little parcel, his curiosity growing with each passing second. He undid the wrappings, then carefully pulled the lid off. At first glance, the box appeared empty. And then he looked closer and realized he'd been wrong.

For a moment, he just stared, unable to believe what he was seeing. When his brain finally connected the dots, he began to laugh abruptly, the sound low and menacing.

Voldemort was now the happiest Dark Lord in existence. Everything, even having to deal with that fucking Furby had been worth it. Soon, very soon, Dumbledore was deeply going to regret many of his actions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like cliffhangers. Did you notice? Comments? Kudos?


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo. Ten years of waiting, plus Final Fantasy 15, equals crappy chapter. Sorry. I'm not big on this one. Thank you to all readers so far!

The next few days were eerily quiet, and though most didn't say anything, no one forgot what had happened. Everyone waited for Dumbledore to say something-to explain, but he never did.

Confusion and suspicion only grew, and it was on the first of October when things finally came to a head.

Hogwarts had gathered for what everyone assumed was going to be a normal breakfast, before classes began for the day. No one had any reason to suspect the credibility of their Headmaster was about to be brought into question once again.

More owls than usual streamed into the Great Hall, drawing everyone's curious attention up to them. They flew down to their owners, or recipients of their mail, and the students and staff quickly found that all of them had been delivered the newest edition of the Daily Prophet, whether they had subscribed to the paper or not.

Needless to say, they were quite confused. But they only needed to _glance_ at the title on the front page to know that this was going to be a _very_ interesting read.

_Albus Dumbledore, Leader of the Light, or Dark Lord in Disguise?_

The next few minutes were filled with dozens of people choking on their food or drink, and younger children asking the older ones what was going on, which led to a lot of awkwardness.

Unable to believe it, everyone, almost as one, began to read the entire article in question, no one sure if they actually even _wanted_ to know where this was going.

_Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards, defeater of the Dark Lord Grindlewald, and esteemed Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Wizardry._

_We all know the name. We all know the titles. We all know the man. Or do we?_

_Compelling evidence has recently come to light proving Dumbledore may in fact be more sympathetic to the Dark than we have previously been led to believe._

_It seems Dumbledore has a curious interest in the immoral and forbidden act of necromancy, and routinely performs these dark ceremonies in none other than the sacred halls of Hogwarts herself, in the very office he presides in (as pictured above)._

_One can only wonder what else a man so unhealthily obsessed with dead might be capable of. Especially when he is already performing these acts within the same walls that hold so many innocent children throughout the year. How many of those students have entered that office immediately after one of these sessions, I wonder? Was I one of them? Were you?_

_With necromancy being perhaps the darkest of all acts, it stands within reason to consider what other 'forbidden' acts the generally beloved Albus Dumbledore has been practicing in secret._

_With allegations of neglect towards cases of child abuse already lain against him, perhaps it is time for us all to take a better look at the man we expected to help lead us in the fight against the Dark Lord._

_It is not yet known who exactly Dumbledore has been attempting to contact and resurrect, but the personal artifacts visible in the circle in the photograph above indicate it is certainly more than one person._

_Do look forward to a follow up once more information has been found and confirmed._

_Until next time, readers,_   
_Saaya Gill_

"..."

"..."

"..."

"What is even going on anymore!?" came a frustrated exclamation from Ravenclaw Table.

Not one single person had the answer to that.

"Can we actually even _believe_ this?" questioned a Hufflepuff.

"The same person wrote about the child abuse neglect," a Gryffindor pointed out. "And it isn't Skeeter for once, so who knows?"

"This is a bit much if they're just trying to discredit him again," said an Eagle. "Last time all they said was he's crazy."

"But then what are they trying to accomplish?" asked a Badger.

"It's hard to say," sighed a Lion.

For the first time now, a Slytherin spoke. "They're trying to get you sheep to actually _think_ for yourselves for once!"

Confused, contemplative silence fell. Even the professors didn't say a word. Everyone was focused on thinking about the article they had just read, wondering how much of it they could really believe. It was a difficult thing to consider, especially for those who had always looked up to the Headmaster, who conveniently wasn't present at the moment.

But...necromancy? Wasn't that a bit extreme? Whether or not it was real? And if it was, who the heck was he trying to bring back to life? ...How had all this been discovered in the first place!?

So lost in their own thoughts, no one noticed Harry Potter get to his feet and leave the Hall, a dangerous smirk on his face. Voldemort had used the 'thank you' perfectly. The teen couldn't have done it any better himself.

The information was out in the open now, but was still ambiguous enough to keep everyone doubtful and curious, and _wanting_ to hear and learn more.

This was the second, very serious accusation against Dumbledore in just over a month. The populace now had to figure out whether or not they could still believe in the Leader of the Light. Was he going to keep his silence? Or was he finally going to answer their many questions and explain what was going on?

No one realized that their young Saviour was already beginning to change sides. Not even the teen himself.

"...Why does Ron have a husk of corn* under his pillow?"

It was hard to say whether the Dark or Light had it worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I was watching Pokemon abridged while writing this. Couldn't resist. Next chapter should hopefully have a more humourous side to it. Comments? Kudos?


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Why is it than when I half ass something, people like it more? That used to happen all the time in high school. Weird. Thank you to all readers so far! And an extra thanks to all those who left a comment!

Voldemort had many plans in motion, which was actually quite normal for October. It was always the busiest month for him. His most important plan so far was set for the thirty first, and oh, it was going to be _very_ interesting indeed.

The thing currently holding his interest was quite entertaining in its own right.

When Potter had sent him evidence proving the Light Lord's interest in the very _dark_ act of necromancy, Voldemort had been unable to believe it at first. How the boy had even gotten his hands on that information, he didn't know. Had Potter already known about what was happening? Or had he accidentally stumbled across it?

If it was the latter, what had Potter been doing in Dumbledore's office anyway? Did he even _want_ to know the answer to that?

...Probably not.

Either way, the information had been something he most certainly wanted out in the open, because anything that would humiliate his enemy was a fantastic thing, and had tracked down the author of the child abuse article in the Daily Prophet. She was young, but unbiased, so he had decided to trust her with the info (though he'd been in disguise when meeting her, of course).

He now had her doing more research, trying to look into who Dumbledore could have been attempting to resurrect, and why. He needed to know how deep this all went. Many others did too. He'd given the young reporter enough incentive to do what she could, as quickly as she could.

He looked forward to it...

With the reporter on one end of things, Voldemort now had the chance to focus on his other plans. Namely, the ones set for Halloween. And it was a good plan too, in his humble opinion. ...Well, as humble an opinion a _Dark Lord_ could have, at any rate.

He had time yet, until the end of the month, but he wanted to finalize things as quickly as possible. Mainly only so he the chance to fix things in case someone fucked up. Again.

When had things changed, he wondered? It had been so sudden, even _he_ hadn't seen it coming. The people had gone from revering Dumbledore, to questioning him in a mere fortnight. And all because of Potter too!

Ah, and speaking of Potter, there was the brat's owl flying into the room, as dutiful and haughty as ever. She had even begun demanding payments from him now. Bold bird. As he still had no desire to be haunted by the ghost of an owl (because he doubted even the Ghostbusters would be able to help him deal with such a tenacious creature), he simply took the letter and conjured a fat mouse, which earned him a satisfied hoot.

_Voldemort_

_You know, I'm really starting to feel confused here. Dumbledore still hasn't said a word to me. You'd think he would have, by now, but he hasn't. He hasn't commented on any of those news articles from the paper, hasn't answered anyone's questions, hasn't once mentioned you, or the Dark, or the war, or anything._

_I thought he'd finally do something, with him being the all knowing meddler that he is, but nothing. I never even thought it could get worse than his lack of communication from last year, but, there you go._

_...I wonder if he's secretly plotting something. Do you think maybe I should set my spy on him? He'd be really effective, I know that for sure. Want proof? He said you had Fruit Loops for breakfast. ...Got a hidden sweet tooth, Mr Dark Lord? Oh, my awesome spy just confirmed that you definitely do._

_Did you notice him? He was right behind you. Watching you. Listening._

_He always is..._

_Have a nice day!_

_Harry Potter_

Unable to help himself, unable to stop himself, Voldemort whipped around, crimson slit eyes searching every square inch of the room cautiously. He saw nothing.

"...Ah." Voldemort wasn't sure he had ever been this creeped out before in his life, though the Furby was a close second. Still not feeling quite right, he pulled out his wand and made a wide, sweeping gesture with the length of yew. Casting a spell, he waited, but nothing was revealed.

Sure the brat was just screwing around with him, he told himself to snap out of it and get back to work. He wasn't going to allow Potter to distract him...

So, the Boy-Who-Lived was really beginning to question things now. That was certainly a good thing. How far would he go, though? Was this the extent of it? Would he defy the Light? Would he continue to fight? If he did, was there any chance he would fight for the Dark instead?

...Why was it that he found himself _hoping_ Potter would turn and join him?

He was pulled out of his thoughts quite abruptly, when he suddenly felt as if he were being watched. He went still, his entire body tensing, as the grip around his wand tightened. Someone was here, standing almost directly behind him. He could feel it, and he immediately knew it wasn't Nagini or the owl.

"Hee hee hee..."

The high pitched giggle had his jaw clenching. He braced himself, and then turned rapidly, dark robes swishing around him, as he shot off a stunner. It hit the wall which cracked and crumbled at the force of the spell.

There was no one there. He was alone.

Or was he?

"Hee hee hee...!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Yeah, so...that just happened. Um, comments? Kudos?


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo. I can't tell you guys how happy reading all these comments makes me. Seriously. Thank you to all readers so far!

Seated at Gryffindor Table, Harry yawned tiredly. Hermione, who was sitting across him, watched him sympathetically, her brown eyes somewhat sad.

"Bad night, Harry?" she asked softly, her voice concerned. She knew he had to deal with nightmares, a lot more of them than he let on too. She hated it.

But the emerald eyed teen shook his head. "Nah, not this time. I spent most of the night reading cause Ron wouldn't stop snoring. Sounded like bloody Snorlax."

Now, Hermione smiled, deciding to focus on the book, rather that...the other bit. "What part are you on?"

"The three just met the Riders of Rohan*." Harry grinned now. "I like how impressed Eomer is with Aragorn. But it's _Aragorn_ , so it's totally warrante-"

"Harry?"

The emerald eyed teen nodded towards the Staff Table, expression rather grim. "Look. Dumbledore actually bothered to grace us with his presence. About time, if you ask me."

Hermione looked over now, and raised a brow. "Oh, well, isn't this a surprise?" she voiced somewhat sarcastically.

This was the first time the Headmaster had bothered showing his face since the second article had been published. And everyone noticed it. What was the old man up to?

Dumbledore paid no attention to either the staff or students, and simply tossed his long beard over his shoulder and began to eat. Despite the confused glances and suspicious whispers, he continued to ignore them all.

When the owls streamed in with the mail, no one was sure if they were relieved or disappointed to see there still wasn't any sort of follow up article in the Prophet about what Dumbledore was really up to.

Having finished his breakfast, Dumbledore got to his feet and walked out of the Great Hall, not realizing Harry had been glaring at him furiously the entire time. No one else really noticed it either, most of them wondering what the heck was going on with the Headmaster. Why bother coming in here to eat, when he could have just stayed up in his office like he'd been doing? It wasn't as if he had interacted with anyone. Not even a ghost. Unless someone invisible had been standing behind him or something.

Harry just sighed. Hopefully Voldemort would find more out soon. The teen didn't know much more himself, and had given the Dark Lord all the information he did have. But he knew this wasn't enough. Not nearly. Yes, people were beginning to question things, but not to the extent where it would _really_ make a difference.

Dumbledore still had far too much power and influence for proper change to be implemented. And change was something this world needed. Desperately.

"Hey, Hermione?"

"Hmm? What is it, Harry?"

"I just realized I have two and a half months to figure out what to send Voldemort for his birthday."

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, closed it, opened it again, and then just blinked. "What...did I just hear?" she questioned in confusion.

"I have to find Voldemort a birthday present?"

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

"..."

"..."

"...So, what do Dark Lords like anyway? Virgin sacrifices?"

Hermione buried her face in her hands. "This is what I get for not listening to dad's friend's roommate's cousin's babysitter's exchange student," she mumbled faintly, and Neville, who was seated next to her, just patted her shoulder in sympathy.

"Oh! Maybe I can send him Ginny!"

"Harry!" the witch admonished.

The emerald eyed teen nodded in agreement. "You're right, I can't send her. She isn't a virgin. I saw her in that orgy with the Hufflepuffs. I know you and Luna still are, but I love you two too much to want you dead!"

"Harry!"

But Harry just cocked his head, too lost in thought to pay proper attention. "Ooh! I should just send him Ron!"

"Har-wait, what?"

The Boy-Who-Lived grinned. "No one ever said it had to be a _female_ virgin," he pointed out correctly. "And Ron sure as Dobby hasn't slept with anyone yet. The husk of corn under his pillow kind of gave that away."

"Oh god..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah...yeah. I don't even know. I'm still trying to work out the rest of the plot, but I know the general direction I want things to go in. Life, man, life. Just keeps getting in the bloody way. Comments? Kudos?


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo. I pulled my back again...because of course I did. Why should I be able to go even a single day without pain, right? Anyway, inspiration hit, so you guys get another chapter! Hurray! Thank you to all readers so far, and an extra thanks to everyone who left a comment!

Voldemort did not like feeling paranoid. God damn Potter and his fucking spy. And even though there had been no signs of this...person since the initial mention of them, he couldn't help but think about it, always feeling as if he were being watched, even when he wasn't. More than once, he had to tell himself to stop being an idiot for allowing the brat to get to him, and focus on his plans.

And speaking of plans, the ones he had for Halloween were finally finished and confirmed. Now he just needed to wait for the thirty first to actually put them in action. Luckily, it was only a couple of weeks away.

But now that he wasn't insanely busy, the Dark Lord finally had the time to reply to Potter's previous letter. So, he settled down behind his desk and began to write...

* * *

The next afternoon, Harry and Hermione were in the Room of Requirement, working on Voldemort's birthday present together, having come up with an idea for the most awesomest gift in the history of the world.

Harry sighed mournfully. "I still don't see why I can't send him a virgin sacrifice. It'd be so much easier than this."

Hermione rolled her eyes, checking the handwritten instructions once again. "If you're so desperate to give him a virgin, why don't you gift him with yourself?"

The Boy-Who-Lived blinked in shock. "W-what!?"

"Well, you're the one who said the sacrifice didn't have to be a girl, and you're still a virgin too," the bushy haired witch pointed out, a smirk on her face. "Now, of course," she continued, the smirk growing, "would you prefer he kill you, or..." she trailed off.

"W-w-w-what!?" Emerald eyes wide and cheeks flushed, Harry just gaped. He looked very much like a fish.

Just then, the door to the room swung open, and Luna walked in, Hedwig on her shoulder...even though no one should have been able to enter. Evidently not even the Room of Requirement could stand up to Luna Lovegood's, erm, presence.

"Hello, Harry. Hello, Hermione." She approached the two, at which point the white feathered owl flew down to her master's lap, hooting affectionately at the blonde. "The Naztors told me Hedwig needed to get to you before the Headmaster got to her instead." She smiled dreamily. "Goodbye, Harry. Goodbye, Hermione. Goodbye, Hedwig." And with that, she turned and left the room, the owl hooting out a farewell.

The two Gryffindors exchanged a look of confusion, trying to process what had just happened, neither of them of what to say.

"Did...she just say 'Naztors'?"

"Yes, yes she did."

"Are they supposed to be some sort of...hybrid of Nazgul and Dementors?"

"I...guess?"

"But doesn't that mean Nazgul would actually have to exist?"

"...Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"I think I'm scared."

"Me too, Hermione, me too."

"...Should we pretend we didn't hear her say that?"

"I think we should." And so, without further ado, Harry took the letter Hedwig had brought him, unfolded it, and began to read.

_Potter,_

_My manor is impenetrable. It is impossible for you to be sending someone in here to spy on me, and I refuse to believe otherwise._

_As for the photograph and information you gave me, I suppose I should...thank you. I assure you, that was more difficult to write than you might realize. I had to get myself drunk._

_I still expect a gift on my birthday. However, until then, I at least have enough to begin discrediting Dumbledore._

_Voldemort_

Harry snickered in amusement, and then, suddenly, was struck with an idea. "Hey, Hermione? Can you read this?" He passed the parchment over.

The witch took it, her brown eyes scanning the sheet quickly. "Yes, I can read it. Why?"

Harry frowned slightly. "What does it say?"

Confused, Hermione read the letter out loud. "Harry? What is it?" she questioned once she'd finished.

"I thought maybe the parchment was charmed to show something different to anyone other than me reading it. I figured it'd explain why no one's mentioned what's been happening." He crossed his arms over his chest. "But you just read exactly what it says."

"Meaning it can't be charmed," Hermione finished, frowning now too.

"Yeah."

The two friends fell into silence, lost in their respective thoughts, while Hedwig too kept quiet, seemingly having caught on to the conflicted grim circumstances...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, that's it for now. I know how the next chapter's going to start and finish, so it's just the stuff in between I have to work out. Until then, comments? Kudos? Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays! Happy New Year!


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? A new chapter three days in a row? When was the last time this happened? Thank you to all readers so far!

When Harry woke on the morning of October thirty first, he was of two minds. On one hand, it was Halloween, but on the other hand, it was fucking _Halloween_.

He doubted getting out of bed was even going to be worth it. Nothing good ever happened on this day, not for him, at least, no matter whether he was in the Wizarding world or not. So what was the point of even trying today? He figured he may as well skip class, stay in bed, and fantasize about his favourite king all day. That would probably be a lot more productive anyway.

That _wonderfully amazing_ plan went right out the window when Trevor entered the room, croaking lowly.

Harry was out of bed and dressed in mere seconds, and wasted no time in leaving the Tower, praying he hadn't accidentally left anything behind. He absolutely _refused_ to be alone in the same room as that evil, vicious toad.

When he settled down breathlessly at Gryffindor Table a few minutes later, covered in a thin sheen of sweat from his run, Hermione looked at him in curious concern. "What happened?"

"Trevor." And that was all that needed to be said.

Every single person within earshot tensed and looked around cautiously, whispering to their neighbour fearfully, even those from other Houses who happened to be walking past the Lion's table, which spread word of what was going on to the others in the Hall.

"Where is he?" one person questioned in a frightened whisper.

"Is he here?"

"Is he!?"

"Nooo!"

"I wanna go home!"

"Oliver warned me this would happen!"

"This is why I wanted to go to Durmstrang!"

The professors had never seen the students so eager to get to class. The students had never seen the professors so eager to teach.

Except Snape. Trevor was terrified of _him_.

It was an incredibly frenzied and fear filled day, which, in most cases, would have been perfect today, considering it was Halloween and all. But it was _Trevor_ , and no one wanted to risk getting on his bad side.

Oh god, the nightmares... The nightmares!

* * *

Harry was in Defence Against the Dark Arts later that day, when suddenly, his scar began to burn. Not having felt this for a while, and not having expected it, he clapped a hand over the old wound with a hiss.

Luckily, everyone else was too busy with the spells they were flinging out to notice, which gave the emerald eyed teen the chance to stumble back against the wall, close his eyes, and focus on the strange connection he had with the Dark Lord...

_Voldemort was walking down a long, colourless hallway. He was alone, had his wand in hand, and was in a very good mood, even with the stupid paper airplanes that kept zooming over his head irritatingly. Nothing could go wrong. Not today. Not for him._

_Reaching the end of the hall, he came to a stop in front of a large, wooden door. Raising a hand, he knocked firmly, the sound echoing rather eerily._

_"Come in!" a very familiar voiced called out._

_Smirking, Voldemort slowly pushed the door open, revealing..._

"Harry!?"

Harry's eyes snapped open, and he groaned. "Fucking cliffhangers," he muttered. Then he blinked, realizing his godfather was peering at him in concern. He looked around. The classroom was empty. Oh.

"Harry? Harry! Talk to me! What's wrong? What happened?"

The teen blinked again. "Hey, Sirius? Does the Order know anything about what Voldemort's been planning?"

Sirius shook his head. "Doesn't seem like anything's going on. There were rumours about a raid that was supposed to take place a few days ago, but nothing happened. Why? Did you see something?"

Harry explained, but his godfather wasn't able to shed any light on what had happened. But Harry figured it didn't really matter. If it was important, the Order would probably know about it, right? That was what the group had been created for, after all. It was literally their only job...

* * *

Everyone was in the Great Hall for the always delicious Halloween feast, when hundreds of owls streamed in, carrying the evening edition of the Daily Prophet. This wouldn't have been considered at all odd, if it weren't for the fact that, once again, _everyone_ in the room received a copy.

That...couldn't be good, could it?

Cautious and curious, they took their copy of the paper, unrolled it, and examined the front page, at which point, a deafening silence descended upon the Hall.

_'Umbridge and Fudge Dead! Lucius Malfoy New Minister of Magic!'_

"...What. The. Actual. Fuck?"

Not even Snape could find fault in that statement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Voldemort did say he had major and amusing plans for Halloween, didn't he? Comments? Kudos?


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo. So, the power went out right when I was about to update this. Weird, right? Luckily, it wasn't gone long this time, because when the power goes out in my building, the water does too. Yeah, that sucks. We once had the water gone for twelve hours after a mere power surge. Like, the fuck? Thank you to all readers so far!

"...Am I hallucinating?"

"No, Harry, not this time."

"Ugh, that's what I thought."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Sooo...is anyone else happy that the coward and bitch are dead?" Harry questioned eventually. "I mean, at least we won't have to worry about ever being tortured by her again. I can't be the only one who hated those stupid, fucking 'detentions'."

It was a surprise to everyone when Snape of all people surged to his feet, turning not on Harry, but Dumbledore. "You assured me the students were exaggerating," he snarled. "You assured me they were lying."

McGonagall wasn't far behind. "You said they were only writing lines!"

Harry, who was still seated at Gryffindor Table with his brows raised in surprise, scoffed. "We _were_ writing lines," he confirmed, causing everyone to look over at him. "But I'm preeeetty sure being forced to write lines with a quill that not only uses your own blood as ink, but carves what you're writing into your own bloody skin _isn't_ considered normal." He shook his head in exasperation. "Honestly, it's a damn good thing my uncle and Umbridge never met. I think they'd have been best friends otherwise."

When silence fell once again, Hermione just dropped her head down onto the table, narrowly missing her golden plate of mashed potatoes.

"You have to stop dropping these bombs, Harry," she muttered tiredly.

Now Sirius was on his feet too, growling and looking absolutely livid. "A Blood Quill!? A fucking Blood Quill!? Are you kidd-argh!" With a roar, he leapt off the raised platform and rushed over to where his godson was sitting. "Show me," he demanded, grey eyes furious.

A little surprised because he had never seen the man so tense and angry before, Harry just silently raised his left hand. Sirius took it, and his jaw clenched so tightly, the teen was surprised he couldn't hear his godfather's teeth cracking.

McGonagall and Snape approached now too. The woman grabbed Harry's hand to examine the scar herself, before Snape did the same.

The Deputy Headmistress looked around the Hall. "How many of you served detentions with Umbridge last year?" she questioned loudly.

Seventy percent of Gryffindor Table raised their hands, followed by fifty percent of Ravenclaw Table, thirty percent of Hufflepuff Table, and, surprisingly, ten percent of Slytherin Table.

McGonagall seemed a little surprised, as if not having expected so many raised hands. This was at least half a the students in the school! "How many of you are now physically scarred from these...'detentions'?" she asked after a pause.

After a few hasty, hesitant looks exchanged with their neighbours, about fifteen percent of those who had raised their hands the first time, did so again.

"What were you told to write?"

"I must not tell lies," Harry supplied, quickly followed by others calling out their own versions.

"I must obey authority."

"I must not dislike cats."

"I will follow the rules."

"Dogs are evil."

"Dumbledore is a liar."

"I will not disobey the Ministry."

"Fudge is sexy."

"I will not sleep in class."

"V-man is my imaginary friend."

"Trevor is Sata-"

"Enough!" McGonagall interrupted, rubbing her temples in irritation. What in the world had Umbridge been punishing these children for!? Catching a movement out of the corner of her eye, she whipped around towards the massive doors. "Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore! Don't you _dare_ run away again!"

The Headmaster froze in the doorway, and turned around somewhat awkwardly, before smiling genially. "I really must go, Minerva," he said calmly. "As head of the Wizengamot, it is necessary for me to congratulate our new Minister."

McGonagall's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Very well," she replied, anger in her tone, "do be sure to inform him that half the students in the school were forced to torture themselves on a regular basis. I'm quite sure his _Master_ will not be pleased to hear that!"

Dumbledore gaped in shock. Everyone else did too. Even the owls that had stayed behind were silent, everybody staring back and forth between McGonagall and Dumbledore.

Harry just frowned. "You can let go of my hand now, Snape. This is getting kind of creepy, even for Halloween, and I never thought I'd say that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I'm not feeling big on this chapter, but meh. I think I know how I want the next two or so to go, so hopefully I'll be able to get those down. Comments? Kudos?


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all readers so far.

The next week passed in a flurry of discussions, the reliving of some painful memories, healing, rumours, speculation, and even a little fear.

There weren't many who cared that Fudge and Umbridge were dead. No, the concern most felt came from the fact that Lucius Malfoy was the new Minister of Magic.

If Draco had been an arrogant git-oh, sorry, arrogant _dick_ before, well that was absolutely nothing compared to how he was behaving now. Even Snape was starting to get pissed off.

* * *

Voldemort was in a pretty good mood. His Halloween plans had gone off without a hitch. He had, ultimately, taken over the Ministry, bringing him one step closer to his final goal.

He found it rather sad that taking over the government was _easier_ than taking over a school. Perhaps he shouldn't have been surprised though.

"And speaking of surprises," he muttered, watching a familiar snowy white owl fly into the room. She circled around his head, before landing gracefully and holding out one of her legs.

"Welcome back, owl," the Dark Lord greeted amiably, taking the letter and conjuring a large mouse for the bird, just as Nagini slithered inside, joining them.

Ignoring both animals, he focused his attention of the letter he had taken, curious to see what Potter was thinking now.

_Voldemort,_

_On behalf of everyone actually sane, thank you for killing Fudge and Umbridge. Please tell me it was painful for them. They deserved to suffer._

_Also, Lucius Malfoy? Seriously? Are you sure making him the Minister's a good idea? I mean, the guy owes Wormtail a Life Debt! When you owe Wormtail of all people a debt, you know you've fucked up._

_Speaking of murder and Malfoys...any chance you could arrange for Draco Malfoy to end up in a very untimely and unfortunate accide-_

**Ignore that, Mr Voldemort, sir. Harry's just feeling a bit bitter today.**

_Pay no attention to the respect in the previous sentence. Hermione just can't help herself around authority figures or people with power. It's a bad habit. ...What was I talking about again? Whelp. I've lost my train of thought._

_Dumbledore's still ignoring everyone, by the way. I have it on good authority that he's been leaving Hogwarts a lot recently, but unfortunately, I have no idea where he's been going. If you have any actually competent Death Eaters, maybe you can have one of them tail him. My own spy seems to be having some difficulty, oddly enough. ...Or maybe my spy can't find out because he actually is competent, and Dumbledore doesn't guard against the opposite. In that case, you could send literally almost anyone after him, and you'll probably find out._

_By the way, have you learned anything new yet?_

_Harry Potter_

_PS. As revenge on Hermione for not letting me put out an assassination contract on a certain blond git, I'm going to reveal one of her secrets to you. Don't ask me how I learned this, buuut, she's a closet yaoi fangirl and ships males she knows with other men, sometimes fictional. ...I wonder who she ships you with? I know it's someone, I just can't figure out who._

"...What?"

Traumatized, Voldemort didn't notice Nagini and Hedwig in the midst of a very dramatic standoff, a single conjured mouse between them. It was high noon, and there could only be one winner.

"Sss..."

"Hoot..."

"...A teenage girl fantasizes about me sleeping with other men!?"

Well, that was one way to cut through the tension.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Kudos?


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo! This chapter is a...treat of sorts to all my awesome readers. You'll see why. Credit for this chapter's basic idea goes to Zaidee Lighthart! And just a reminder guys: this IS a slash fic for a reason!

_Voldemort was in bed. That wouldn't have been at all odd if it weren't for the fact that he wasn't alone. There was a second person, but their figure was in shadow, and he couldn't make out who it was._

_Curiously, he reached out to touch. It was a man, a fairly small one. He ran his hands over a smooth chest, and heard a soft moan. Ah, a young man, then, perhaps even a teen._

_"That's right, touch him." A voice sounded in the darkness, but it didn't belong to the one in bed with him. The voice belonged to a female._

_For some reason though, Voldemort didn't question anything, and simply did as the voice instructed. He touched the young man again, even as he was touched in return, fingers trailing down and then back up his chest._

_"Go on," said the girl from off to the side. "Kiss him."_

_The Dark Lord did just that. He cupped the younger man's cheeks, tipped his head back, and slanted his mouth over his companion's, kissing him hungrily and swallowing his moan._

_The figure pushed himself up against Voldemort, skin against skin, while the female voiced her encouragements to the sight._

_"Can you feel him?" she spoke. "Hard and hot against you?"_

_Voldemort groaned as the figure ground down, fingers delving into hair that shouldn't have existed. But he didn't notice. He splayed a hand across the younger's back and pushed him into him, grinding upward to increase the friction._

_The figure moaned again, louder now, and wrapped his arms around the Dark Lord's neck. "Please, please..." he whispered in a strangely familiar voice._

_"Look at him," spoke the girl. "He's already begging for you. Won't you give him what he wants?"_

_One of Voldemort's hands snaked in between their bodies, long fingers curling around a firm cock, eliciting another moan from the shadowy figure, who pressed desperate, needy kisses to the Dark Lord's neck and shoulder, arms tightening around him._

_"What do you want?" Voldemort questioned, his voice low._

_"I-I-ah!"_

_"He wants you to fuck him," said the girl. "Isn't that right, Ha-"_

Voldemort woke abruptly, breathing rapidly and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He stared at the ceiling above him, blinking slowly as he calmed.

"Master?" voiced Nagini, who had been sleeping at the foot of the bed. "You smell agitated."

He didn't even look at her, crimson eyes still unknowingly fixed on a single point of the roof. "...I believe I have been scarred for life, Nagini."

The snake was silent for a moment, before she lowered her head back down and replied. "Welcome to the club, Master."

* * *

Meanwhile at Hogwarts, Harry lay in his four poster bed in his dorm up in Gryffindor Tower, panting and blushing furiously.

What in the world had he just dreamed!?

He wasn't sure who the shadowy figure was, but it had been a man for sure. A tall, very firm, very lean man, with soft hair, and a deep voice, and...fascinating hands that made him feel quite strange indeed.

There had been a girl there too, and though he had only heard her voice, Harry was positive Hermione had just been encouraging the mysterious figure to...do... _stuff_ to him.

Harry was ninety nine point nine percent sure this was Voldemort's fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, not so much a treat as it is a teaser to one, huh? Oh well, I tried my best. Comments? Kudos?


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo! Tonight's the Royal Rumble guys! I'm so hyped! Anyway, glad the previous chapter sounded alright. Thank you to all readers so far, and an extra thanks to those who left a comment!

"Harry? Are you alright?" Hermione asked her friend curiously the next morning.

Green eyes widened. "I wasn't having dream sex with a man!"

Hermione blinked. "What?"

"N-nothing! So how's the potion going?"

"Er, fine. It should be done by Christmas."

"Okay, good. That's good."

"...Are you sure you're alright?"

"Y-yep, peeerfectly peachy. Oh look, the mail's here."

There was nothing particularly interesting in today's paper either, which was somehow both a relief and a disappointment to many. Some now assumed that everything that had happened so far was a fluke, that it was all lies, and that Dumbledore was just being falsely accused again, like the previous year.

Harry hoped new information was found and published soon, because this was bad. Once a few people went back on their doubts, others were going to start to do the same, and everything they were trying to prove would be utterly pointless. They would be back at square one, and that wasn't going to be good for them at all.

"Hoot, hoot."

Harry blinked. "Oh, sorry girl." Telling himself to focus, he took the letter her dear owl had brought him and read it, surprised by how oddly short it was.

_Potter,_

_Do not question my decisions. I am fully aware of what I am doing. And I will not kill Draco Malfoy for you. Yet._

_Voldemort_

"...Huh."

"Harry?" Hermione voiced curiously. "What is it?"

"I think Voldemort's in a bad mood," the Boy-Who-Lived replied, passing the letter over so she could read it for herself.

"This...might be a stupid question," said Neville from next to them, "but is he in a bad mood often?"

Harry smiled. "It isn't a stupid question, Nev. And yes, and no. I mean, the guy's a Dark Lord, so it's not exactly weird for him to be angry or frustrated, but discounting the occasional threat, we seemed to be getting along just fine. But he sounds really curt in this letter, which is pretty weird right now. I figured we'd gotten past that, you know?"

Hermione frowned slightly, and crossed her arms over her chest. "You know...from everything you've told me so far, this is definitely weird. I wonder if something happened?"

"Maybe his latest plans failed, so he's angry?" Neville suggested with a shrug.

But now Harry frowned too, brow scrunching up. "I can usually feel it when he's angry though," he said slowly, tapping his scar. "And I didn't feel anything at all. Not even annoyance or anything to show he's upset."

"Well, I suppose he could have just had a bad night."

Having had an...odd night himself, Harry found he couldn't really fault the Dark Lord, if that were truly the case. Still, something just...didn't seem right with all this.

"Hoooot?"

The teen blinked, green eyes surprised as he was pulled out of his thoughts. "Sorry Hedwig, go ahead and take some of Ron's bacon-I doubt he'll notice."

Hedwig did just that before flying off, hooting triumphantly at her delicious prize.

Breakfast came to an end, and Harry went to class, did his work, and even held and attended Quidditch practice that evening. And yet, all throughout the day his uneasiness didn't fade. Seeing a cheerfully smiling Dumbledore chatting with the other professors at dinner didn't help matters at all either.

Harry didn't hear from Voldemort for nearly three weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Kudos?


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo. So yeah, the Rumble was pretty meh. So much for the hype. Oh well. Thank you to all readers so far!

It was Christmas. The break was going well, the castle decorated as magnificently as always, though few had remained behind to enjoy it. Harry was one of those few, the only one of his friends to have stayed. It wasn't as if he really had anywhere else to go, and with Sirius here, well, what reason would he have to leave?

But despite how cheerful everything appeared to be, Harry was feeling rather worried. Voldemort had been oddly silent for over a fortnight now, Harry's scar not even twinging in the slightest. And in this time, it seemed as if everything had gone back to how it had been before. Rumours had begun to fade, and Dumbledore had started showing up for each meal, as confident and twinkly as always.

Harry hated the very sight.

He had written multiple letters to the Dark Lord, and though it appeared as if Hedwig had managed to deliver them all successfully, they had all gone unanswered, no matter what had been written in them.

What was going on? Had something happened? Harry didn't understand this silence, and as more time went by, he only grew more concerned and disconcerted.

The days continued to pass, and still there was no sign of the Dark Lord Voldemort. Not even the Death Eaters had been summoned, according to Sirius, who had reluctantly spoken to Snape upon his godson's inquiry.

When new year's rolled around, and with it Voldemort's birthday, Harry sent Hedwig off with a letter and parcel-a birthday present, as promised.

There was _no way_ he wasn't going to get a response to this, right?

* * *

_"Have you missed me, Little Serpent?"_

_Harry moaned softly at the feel of the long fingers trailing down his chest, and didn't answer the question. He was kneeling on a soft and utterly massive bed, his own hands resting on a smooth, firm chest._

_"Have you missed me?" the man asked again, gently pushing Harry down onto his back and hovering over his smaller body._

_"Y-yes!" Harry hissed, wrapping his arms around the stranger's neck._

_Lowering, he chuckled deeply, lips skimming the teen's ear. "Eager, are we?" But he already knew the answer to that._

_Harry moaned again as the man kissed him, parting his lips immediately and gasping when long fingers curled around his cock. He bucked up, but the man merely pressed in closer, pinning him down in place. He groaned in aggravation. "This isn't fair!"_

_"Patience, Little Serpent," the mysterious man whispered against his skin. He trailed nipping kisses along the column of his throat. "I will give you what you desire soon enough..."_

Harry woke with a gasp, and lay panting on bed, more irritated by the arousal coursing through him than he was by the dream. This was hardly the first one he'd had, though the shadowy man had never spoken so much before, from what he could remember.

...Why did the man's voice sound so oddly...familiar to him? Deciding it would be best to just not dwell on it too much, and his arousal fading, the teen simply rolled over and went back to sleep.

He never did heard back from Voldemort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Kudos?


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo. Apparently hunger provides inspiration. Thank you to all readers so far, and an extra thanks to those who left a comment!

Voldemort woke abruptly. Groaning, he lay in place, pain coursing through his entire body. Tensing, he tried to look around, but his head felt as if it were about to explode. ...Why was he on the floor?

Nagini slithered into the room, and then hissed in joy when she realized the Dark Lord was awake. She rushed over to him immediately. **"Master! You're awake!"**

**"Nagini? What-?"** Stomaching the pain, Voldemort forced himself into a sitting position. Grimacing, he looked down at himself, taking note of his torn, blood stained robes.

**"You have been unconscious a long time, Master,"** the snake informed him. **"Today is the thirty first of December. The pretty, evil owl has left you lots of letters."**

Grunting in response, Voldemort pulled out his wand and summoned his potion kit to him, and began to heal himself up, somewhat surprised by the severity of his wounds. Fucking incompetent Death Eaters! Fucking traps! Fucking Dumbledore and his god damn Order!

Angry now, he downed potions and healed himself to the best of his ability. Once the pain faded, he rose to his feet and stripped out of his dirty robes and cleaned up, Nagini keeping silent, no doubt aware of the fury he was currently feeling.

Once he had showered, dressed, and eaten, Voldemort, while still angry, felt much calmer now, and made his way to his study, pondering over what had happened and what steps he should take now.

Spotting at least half a dozen rolls of parchment on his desk, he paused in surprise for a second, before reading them. They were all letters, each one from Potter, and all of them expressing more concern than the last.

...Concern? Why in Salazar's name would Potter be feeling concern for _him_ of all people?

Frowning, he set the letters back down onto his desk, and stared at them in confusion. The teen was apparently worried for not having heard from him recently, approximately three weeks, in fact.

...Three weeks. Those idiots were going to pay dearly for falling for the old man's trap and nearly causing his death when he had gone to salvage the situation they had so royally fucked up.

If he hadn't been immortal, Voldemort _knew_ he would have died, and all that served to do was make him angrier. He was the _Dark Lord!_ He shouldn't have ended up in the condition he had woken in.

He pulled out his wand once more, and fingered the yew, debating on summoning the stupid idiots in order to punish them, when a familiar white feathered owl flew in through the open window, and landed elegantly on the desk in front of him, hooting in what sounded like relief.

Smiling just slightly at the now common sight, Voldemort stroked the owl's feathers, while he used his other hand to untie the roll of parchment and the parcel she had brought him. Then he summoned some treats for the bird, and focused his attention on the letter.

_Voldemort,_

_So, it's been just about three weeks, and there's still no sign of you. I kind of hope you're just mad at me and are childishly ignoring me for some reason. But something tells me that isn't the case. I_ know _something's happened, but either no one else knows what, or they're deliberately not telling me. Honestly, at this point, I don't know which is more likely._

_Things here at Hogwarts have pretty much gone back to how it was before all this started. All the doubts and questions are fading. There hasn't been any new, relevant information in the paper since that last article, and you haven't accused Dumbledore of anything either, and I know there isn't anything I can do on my own here. It would never be taken seriously._

_I don't know what happened to you, but today's December thirty first so, as promised, I'm sending you a present. I have a feeling you'll either like it, or kill me for my...impudence, as Snape so kindly and often puts it._

_Happy birthday, Voldemort. I hope...I hope you're okay._

_Harry Potter_

Slowly, Voldemort lowered the letter and picked up the parcel. It was quite small and light. What could it possibly be?

He pulled the paper off, and then opened it. Sitting inside the little box was his gift, and another, much shorter letter, informing him what it was and instructing him on how to use it.

Voldemort took the gift out of the box, and held it up to the light streaming in from the window, examining it closely as it glowed. And then he began to chuckle, his voice low and deep.

"Well, well, well. Here now I hold the key to not only my revenge, but also my success." A smile crossed his pale face. "It seems you and I will both soon get all that we desire, dear Harry." His smile turned into a satisfied smirk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like how so many of you assumed Voldemort was ignoring Harry because of the dream. Nope. It was actually because he was unconscious and nearly died. I think the humour should be making a bit of a comeback in the next chapter. And yes, you'll also learn what Voldemort's birthday present was! Comments? Kudos?


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo. Okay, I lied, you don't really find out what Voldemort got for his birthday here. I mean, I'm sure you can guess it, but it isn't said. I forgot it was supposed to be mentioned. Hopefully it'll be in the next chapter. I don't know. Also, Voldemort nearly dying should be more important than a birthday present. Priorities, people. Thank you to all readers so far!

Christmas break had come to an end, and all the students had returned for the new term, everyone cheerfully discussing what they had done over the last two weeks. Nothing at all seemed to be amiss, in their minds.

Of course, that was before they noticed a new face up on the Staff Table. A _very_ attractive face. At that moment, there were quite a few raised eyebrows and murmurs of, "How _you_ doin'?" from boys and girls alike, not that the man seemed to notice...or care.

Harry, seated at Gryffindor Table, noticed the new face too, and frowned. Why did he look so familiar, he wondered, eyeing the chestnut coloured hair and eyes. He got his answer soon enough.

A few minutes later, Dumbledore stood and called for everyone's attention, smiling genially, his eyes twinkling more than ever. "I'm sure by now, you have all noticed the newest addition to our staff." He gestured down the table at the man sitting between Snape and Sirius. "This is Professor Leo Bright, and he will be taking on the post of History of Magic while Professor Binns is away on vacation."

In most cases, Harry would have questioned how it was possible for a ghost of all beings to go on vacation, but today, right now, he was too busy remembering something that had happened a few months ago.

_He had just exited Gringotts, when someone grabbed him by the arm. Angry, he whipped around, only to come face to chest with a rather tall man with chestnut brown hair and eyes. He stared as the man leaned down, his lips brushing his ear._

_"Kufufu..." he voiced softly, before releasing him and vanishing in the crowd._

Harry blinked, pulling himself out of his thoughts, now aware of _exactly_ who this man was. He leapt to his feet, emerald eyes locked on their new professor. "What the fuck are you doing!?" He rushed up to the Staff Table, slammed his hands down onto it. "What in the actual fuck are you doing here!? How is this even possible!?"

Leo Bright merely gazed at him for a moment, his eyes seemingly taking in every detail of the teen's face. And then, suddenly, he began to chuckle, the sound echoing throughout the silent Great Hall, students and staff all surprised and caught off guard by the teen's outburst.

Even as everyone stared, the laughter stopped abruptly. The man's eyes were locked on Harry's, and now he smiled a smile that was very clearly part happy, and part smug.

"I came here for your sake, dearest Harry," he spoke, his voice low. Bracing his own hands on the table, he leaned in and kissed Harry firmly.

There was a clatter and thump from Gryffindor Table. Both Ron and Ginny Weasley had fainted.

Nobody noticed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Kudos?


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo. Thank you to all readers so far.

Leo Bright pulled back, and Harry, his lips tingling oddly, just stood there blinking dumbly, his hands still pressed flat on the table.

Surprisingly, it was Dumbledore who broke the silence that had fallen. "Well," he spoke, still smiling and twinkling like it was nobody's business. "I didn't realize the two of you were acquainted."

"I think they're more than just 'acquainted', Albus," said McGonagall faintly, clearly not having expected such a sudden and blatant act of PDA.

But Harry and Leo paid no attention to anyone, and in silence, left the Great Hall together. They made their way through the castle, up many flights of stairs, and all the way to the Room of Requirement. Harry walked past the wall three times, then wrenched the door open when it appeared. Once they were inside, he slammed the door shut, and then turned to face the man, arms folded across his chest, waiting.

Sure enough, Leo's appearance began to change. He grew a little taller, a little leaner, the shape of his jaw, nose, and mouth changing slightly as well. His skin paled, his hair shortened and darkened, his eyes going from a simple chestnut brown to a strange, and complex crimson.

Harry was unimpressed. "Do I even _want_ to know how it was possible for you to get into the castle?"

"No. And while I thank you for the potion that gave me my old body back, do _I_ want to know how you managed to create and brew it?"

"No." There was a pause. "What the fuck happened?" Harry questioned finally. "I kept writing to you, but you never wrote anything back. No one's heard from you in weeks, according to Snape!"

"I sent some Death Eaters on a raid," Voldemort replied after what appeared to be a moment of contemplation. "However, it seems it was a trap of sorts, set by Dumbledore. When I went and attempted to salvage the situation, I was left gravely injured. When I returned to my manor, I collapsed and, according to Nagini, was unconscious for nearly three weeks. I woke on new year's eve, at which point I received your gift."

Harry's eyes widened. " _You_ almost _died_?" he voiced in disbelief.

"Yes," the Dark Lord replied simply.

"Huh. ...Why are you _here_ , then?"

"I have already taken over the government. Now it is time for me to do the same here."

Harry understood. "So you'll do it from the inside-infiltration, sneaking mission style, like Solid Snake." He nodded to himself, and moved to sit in one of the armchairs that had just appeared, watching as Voldemort did the same. "What the hell was that kiss for?"

"Because I felt like it," Voldemort deadpanned. "Use your brain. In most cases, it would be odd and suspicious for you to speak to and be near me, as a professor. Now it will be expected."

The teen raised a brow. "And you had to _kiss_ me for that? You couldn't find any other way to do this?" There had to be plenty of alternative methods out there, right?

"No."

"Uh huh... Yeah, see this face? This face means I _definitely_ believe you for sure." He looked at him closely. "How did you get past security anyway?" he questioned sarcastically.

Voldemort was the one to raise a brow now. "Hogwarts does not have security," he replied in equal sarcasm.

"Well that explains a _whole_ lot." Harry sighed. "So, why hasn't there been anything against Dumbledore in the paper recently? Do you have any idea?"

"I do, actually. It seems the young reporter I left in charge was attacked a number of weeks ago. She is currently in St Mungo's, healing from some very serious injuries."

Well, he certainly hadn't expected that. Harry ran his fingers through his hair in an agitated manner. "Do you know who attacked her?"

Voldemort shook his head, relaxing in his seat. "I do not. She claimed it happened while she was walking through Diagon Alley, and from behind, as well. I saw her memories. She had no time to retaliate before she was taken down. It was surprising that she even survived."

Harry frowned. "I...wonder if Dumbledore was behind it," he said slowly. "I mean, she's been writing about him, and exposing his secrets, right?"

The Dark Lord nodded in agreement. "She is currently being guarded by some of my more...competent followers, in case whoever it was tries again."

"Well, that's better than nothing."

The two fell silent, Harry trying not to fidget under the odd way he was currently being looked at. It was sort of happy, sort of curious, and sort of smug all at once. He had absolutely no idea what it meant, and quickly tried to search for something to say.

"Sooo, I heard Nagini lost to Hedwig in a high noon face off for a juicy mouse."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed. "Did she now? It seems she failed to mention that. Though I do not doubt it. That bird of yours is a menace. Majestic, but a menace."

Harry smirked. "She learned from the best."

"The best?"

His smirk grew, emerald eyes filled with amusement. "She's quite fond of Thorin, apparently."

"...What?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Kudos?


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo. Jeez, after thirty nine chapters, you guys are still questioning things? Seriously? What's the point? Does anything happening in this make sense? Just chill and roll with it, people. Remember, this isn't crack, but it isn't serious either. Thank you to all readers so far! This is getting way more popular than I ever thought it would!

Harry and Marvolo (as he wanted to be called now) spent not only all day, but all night as well, in the Room of Requirement, discussing what their next plan was, and what steps they had to take. It was true that the two of them still had plenty of problems between them that needed to be resolved, but Dumbledore was a common enemy, and as the saying goes: 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend.'

Unfortunately, the two couldn't agree on what they wanted. Harry wanted Dumbledore to pay for what he had done over the years. Marvolo just wanted him dead.

Though it took them hours, they finally came to an agreement: They would make the old man pay first, and _then_ the Dark Lord would kill him. Simple.

But how would they do all this?

"We must bring the speculation back," stated Marvolo.

"So, get people to start questioning things again?"

"Yes. But _how_ we will do that, I'm afraid I cannot say."

"You haven't been able to learn any new information?" asked Harry.

"There has been no time. I was taking over the government, and then unconscious."

"Oh. Right." The teen sighed. "I think my spy's a bit _too_ competent, because he hasn't been able to figure anything out either. This is what I get for not recruiting an idiot."

Marvolo just stared at him for a moment before speaking. "That is actually a very interesting idea."

"It is?" Then Harry blinked. "Wait, what's an interesting idea?" Merlin, he really needed some coffee right about now.

"I will send my most incompetent follower after Dumbledore, and once he drops his guard, send the most competent ones to take advantage of his lapse."

Harry just blinked again, slowly, tiredly. "Oh. Okay. Why not? He hasn't been leaving as often as usual though, so I don't know how much recon those Death Eaters will be able to do."

"It will be enough."

The teen shrugged. "If you say so." Dumbledore was fucking weird, so who even knew what would or wouldn't work against him. He yawned. "So, what's the story between us, exactly?" he questioned curiously. "Obviously I can't come out and say who you really are, but you made it _pretty_ clear that we know each other."

Marvolo chuckled lightly, and stretched his legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles. "Part of the truth will suffice," he replied simply. "We have known one another since you were young, wrote letters all summer until now, and have only recently become close."

Harry frowned and ran his fingers through his hair. "You know, there _are_ a fair few people who know _exactly_ who I've been writing to, right? Including Dumbledore?"

Strangely enough, the man began to laugh. A full blown laugh at that, which had Harry staring with wide eyes. Had he just broken the Dark Lord?

Eventually, Marvolo recovered, crimson eyes filled with amusement. "Dumbledore may be a foolish old man, dear Harry, but he is no blithering idiot. He is fully aware of who I am. He is simply pretending to be oblivious to it."

"...What?"

The door to the Room of Requirement flew open abruptly, and Hermione rushed in, with what appeared to be a newspaper in hand. Was it already morning? Her cheeks were flushed, her hair wilder than usual, with very noticeable shock and anger visible in her brown eyes.

"Harry! You have to see this!" she exclaimed furiously. "This is insane! Has the Headmaster lost his mind!?"

The raven haired teen only had the chance to exchange a confused glance with Marvolo, before the paper was shoved at him. Missing his glasses for the first time, since he had just been poked in the eye, he scanned the headline on the front page...and promptly forgot his discomfort.

_'Dumbledore Attempts to Resurrect Harry Potter's Abusive Relatives'_

"..."

"H-Harry?"

"That son of a fuck!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not really feeling this chapter, but Final Fantasy 15. That's my excuse. Comments? Kudos?


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo. Sorry about the wait guys. The depression caused me to have zero motivation to really get any writing done recently. Hell, I haven't done much of anything. Haven't even touched FF15 in like, three weeks. Ninety percent of this chapter was written earlier today, so while I know it isn't the best, I hope it's still alright. Thank you to all readers so far, and an extra thanks to those who reviewed/commented!

Harry was far from pleased. In fact, he was quite pissed off. "That giant fucking whore! What the fuck does he think he's playing at!?"

Eyes wide, Hermione tried not to step back, away from her friend. "C-calm down, Harry!"

"Calm down!? How the fuck can I possibly calm down!? _Dumbledore_ tried to _resurrect_ the _Dursleys_! The fucking Dursleys, Hermione! And after all the effort Voldemort put in to kill them too!"

At this, Marvolo, glanced up from the newspaper he had taken from Harry. "I assure you, it hardly took any effort." Then he turned his attention back to the paper.

Relaxing slightly, Harry huffed out a laugh. "Yeah, I don't doubt that at all."

Hermione, however, looking quite pale all of a sudden, stared at them in clear shock, brown eyes wide. "W-what? You-you-V-Voldemort?"

Harry blinked, and then understood. "Right, Hermione, Voldemort, Voldemort, Hermione," he spoke with simple gestures, too upset to bother explaining things properly. "Try not to kill one another," was all he added to that.

Luckily, the witch was smart enough to figure things out on her own. "Are you telling me that our new History of Magic professor is the Dark Lord in disguise?"

Harry shrugged. "Pretty much. Oh, and apparently Dumbledore already knows that Leo Bright is Voldemort."

"Then why in the world did he hire him!?"

He shrugged again. "Why did he try to bring the Dursleys back to life?" he questioned in return.

"...Fair point," Hermione conceded. Releasing a deep sigh, she lowered herself down into the armchair that had just appeared behind her, courtesy of the Room's magic.

"What did you do with those severed fingers I sent you?" Marvolo questioned suddenly.

"Severed fingers?"

Hermione nudged him harshly. "The Dursleys, Harry," she hissed. Although she supposed she couldn't be surprised he had forgotten, considering everything that had just happened.

"Oh, right, that. I let Dumbledore take th-" he paled. "Fuck."

Marvolo lowered the newspaper, and fixed the emerald eyed teen with a stern gaze. "Are you daft? What possessed you to allow _him_ of all people to-"

"Well what the fuck else was I supposed to do!?" Harry retorted heatedly. "It was a box of fingers! What else was I supposed to do with them!?" he repeated. "Sleep with them at my bloody bedside!?" ...That made a really weird mental image.

"You could have fed them to your owl," the man pointed out.

Harry scoffed. "And risk infecting her with parasites? Hell no!" Although, Ron probably would have eaten them himself. It wasn't as if he really paid attention to what exactly he put into his mouth.

Hermione sighed as she listened, and rubbed her temples. "You can argue about all this later. We have class, Harry." Which also meant Marvolo had to head off to teach, though she wasn't about to tell _him_ what to do. New professor or not, he was still Voldemort.

"But, Hermione-!"

"You're not skipping class, Harry!"

"Indeed." Marvolo set the paper down now, seemingly finished with it, and got to his feet. As the two teens watched, he reapplied his glamour, once more taking on the image of Leo Bright. Once satisfied with his appearance, he made his way over to the door, opened it, and then turned back to look at them, smiling. "Come now, children, it's time for you to go to class."

"...Oh god, that's terrifying."

"Worse than Trev-"

" _Nothing_ can be worse than that."

And so, with that, the group split up. Professor Bright headed over to his office, while Harry and Hermione walked down the corridor towards Gryffindor Tower, which luckily wasn't far from the Room of Requirement.

"So, Harry," Hermione voiced suddenly, glancing at her friend, "did you enjoy that kiss yesterday?"

Harry froze mid-step. "W-what?"

"Did you enjoy _Professor Bright's_ kiss?" It was clear, even without _looking_ at her, that she was grinning.

Harry made an odd squeaking sound, whatever he had said completely indecipherable due to the way his voice had just cracked. Not trusting himself to speak, he leveled his friend with an angry glare instead, trying his hardest to forget that stupid, lovely, fucking kiss.

Hermione's grin grew smug, and she laughed cheerfully, only growing louder when she caught sight of the blush now staining Harry's cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Kudos?


	42. Chapter 42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo! I just realized Wrestlemania's in like, three days or something. I don't know if I'm hyped or not. Thank you to all readers so far, and as an extra thanks for all your kind words, this chapter's a bit longer than usual. Hope it's alright!

The following days passed by surprisingly quickly, everyone so focused on all the new speculation and rumours going around, that no one really paid much attention to anything else, preferring to gossip instead.

Fudge and Umbridge were dead, killed by You-Know-Who; Lucius Malfoy was now the Minister of Magic, even though he was a pretty big jerk-a sexy jerk, but still a jerk; Dumbledore was a child abuse supporting necromancer; the new History of Magic professor was a total hunk, and said professor and Harry Potter had wild and passionate sex every night. (Harry couldn't stop blushing ever time he heard that last one, Hermione couldn't stop grinning, and Ron and Ginny couldn't stop fainting.)

Still, that new article in the Daily Prophet had abruptly brought all the doubt back to where it had been a few weeks ago. In light of that, Dumbledore had once again begun eating his meals in his office, avoiding the Great Hall as he'd been doing before.

Harry didn't understand any of this. If Dumbledore was worried about all these accusations, why wasn't he saying or doing anything about it? Why was he hiding away? And why exactly had he knowingly hired Voldemort to teach history in the first place? Was it just because he wasn't teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts? Harry supposed that made sense. Sort of. Not really...

* * *

_Harry was laying on a large bed in an even larger room, with his wrists bound to the wooden headboard, a soft cloth over his eyes, blocking his vision. He may not have been able to see or touch, but he had plenty of other senses to help leave him an absolutely incoherent mess. ...Much to the pleasure of the man above him._

_Cool but sure fingers ran down his bare chest, passing over his nipples teasingly, before sliding back up and pinching them lightly, causing the teen to release a gasp of surprise._

_"What would you like me to do, Harry?" asked the man._

_"N-ngh, touch me!"_

_"I already am." The smile was clear in his voice. "You need to be more specific than that, Little Serpent."_

_Harry groaned, blushing furiously. The man chuckled deeply, his fingers trailing up to Harry's warm cheeks. He cupped them gently, and bent down, his lips hovering over Harry's own for a long, agonizing moment._

_Harry couldn't see the man, but he could feel him over him. Unable to take it, it was Harry who moved first, lifting his head and pressing his lips to the man's. There was another low chuckle, and the man cupped the teen's jaw, coaxing him to part his lips, before kissing him firmly._

_Harry strained against his bonds, wanting to get free and touch the man, his moans and gasps being swallowed the moment they left him. He squeaked suddenly, feeling long, cool fingers curl around his cock, giving it a sharp tug._

_"Is this what you want, Harry? Is this where you want me to touch you?"_

_"Y-yes!" Harry's hips bucked up into the hand. "M-more, please! Marvolo!"_

There was a heavy sounding thump, followed by laughter, and Hermione woke with a gasp, jolting up in bed.

"Oops, sorry Hermione!" giggled two people in unison as they left the room.

The bushy haired witch lowered back down with a sigh. She wasn't sure she had hated Lavender and Parvati more than she did now. Dammit, if only there was a way to preserve dreams beyond just writing them down. Reading over them was hardly as good as seeing them again.

Suddenly, Hermione grinned a grin that couldn't possibly mean anything good for whoever it was she was thinking of right now.

* * *

Harry yawned. He was seated at Gryffindor Table, trying to choke down breakfast while Ron devoured everything in front of him, getting food everywhere, and Ginny made terrible attempts at flirting with him. Too bad Ginny wasn't Bill, or Fred, or George. Those wandering hands would have been _far_ more interesting otherwise.

"Harry!" Hermione slid onto the bench on Harry's other side, finally drawing his attention away from the two redheads.

Green eyes narrowed as the raven haired teen was suddenly filled with dread. Something in the girl's expression was freaking him out, big time. "Er-morning, Hermione," he greeted rather cautiously.

The witch grinned. "I had a _very_ interesting dream last night!" And before Harry could say anything, she leaned in closer to him and began whispering into his ear, both of them completely missing the scowls on Ron and Ginny's faces, that had Neville stiffening and cautiously bringing his wand out under the table-just in case...

Up at the Staff Table meanwhile, the professors were in the middle of breakfast as well. Oddly enough, there were more empty seats than usual here. Dumbledore's throne like chair was barren, as was normal now, but, stranger than that, both Professors Black and Bright's chairs were vacated too. Those two were not known to miss meals like this.

Where were they? Had something happened to them? Not even the professors knew, as Minerva got a snarky answer from Severus when she asked him if he knew anything about it.

Just as she wondered whether Potter, perhaps, knew where his godfather and, er, _lover_ were, Minerva's gaze was drawn to the teen in question. His eyes were wide, his cheeks flushed, while beside him, Granger grinned and patted him on the back as she poured herself some coffee with her free hand. Minerva didn't know what the two were talking about, but Granger looked quite smug indeed.

"Those brats had better not be plotting something," muttered Severus, his own dark eyes locked on the two Gryffindors, a scowl on his face.

Minerva merely bit back a smile and sigh, and got to her feet. It was time for classes to begin...

* * *

Harry and his classmates walked into the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom a few minutes later, only to come to a stop in the doorway. Sirius Black was nowhere to be found. Instead-

"Professor Bright?"

Leo, standing by the large desk at the front of the room, turned around and greeted the group with a smile. "Come in, all of you. Please take your seats so we may begin the lesson."

Exchanging confused, questioning glances, the students did as told, though Harry did so with a puzzled frown.

"Where's Sirius?" he asked curiously.

"We have traded positions," replied Leo simply, going through the rolls of parchment on the desk.

"Traded...positions?" Harry looked at Ron, Hermione, and Neville, all three of them shrugging, clearly as bewildered as he was.

"Yes. From today on, Professor Black will be teaching History of Magic, and I, Defence Against the Dark Arts."

Everyone looked around at one another, completely and utterly baffled.

"Why?" questioned Harry.

Leo looked up from the sheet of parchment he had been pursuing, and locked gazes with Harry, chestnut eyes boring into his emerald, and smirked, evidently pleased with himself. "He lost a bet."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Kudos?


	43. Chapter 43

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo! So, now I not only have to finish playing Final Fantasy 15, but Persona 5 as well! And those are just the games I'm in the middle of on the PS4. Also, migraines are a fucking bitch. Thank you to all readers so far!

By the end of the day, the entire castle was aware of what had happened, but not _what_ had happened. Professors Black and Bright had been involved in a bet. Professor Black had lost this bet, which meant he had to teach History of Magic, while Professor Bright got to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts (whether this switch was even legal, no one knew).

Unfortunately, nobody, not the students, staff, House-Elves, ghosts, or even pets had any idea what the bet had been in the first place. Many had asked Harry Potter, figuring he would know, but he claimed otherwise, saying he was as confused as the rest of them. He certainly looked it too.

For once they actually believed him, and left him alone. Instead, they focused their thoughts on Dumbledore, wondering if he was going to ignore this too. Was he really just going to _allow_ the two professors to switch positions like that? Were the two even _qualified_ to teach the other subject?

The students, staff, House-Elves, ghosts, and pets got their answer soon enough.

Their first DADA lesson with their new professor was intriguing indeed. Even Harry had to admit it-reluctantly though it was, that he was quite impressed.

Everyone was quite pleased to discover that Professor Bright did indeed know quite a bit about Defence. In fact, he was probably their best (or second best for those biased towards Professor Lupin) Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.

But now Harry was more confused than ever. Dumbledore had hired Leo Bright, fully aware that he was actually Lord Voldemort in disguise. Harry had just assumed the only reason the old Headmaster had done it was because the Dark Lord was going to be stuck teaching History of Magic, instead of DADA like he had always wanted.

Okay, that made sense. ...Well, not really, but close enough.

But now, because of the bet he'd had with Sirius, Voldemort was teaching Defence, exactly like he had wanted to all these years, and exactly like Dumbledore _hadn't_ wanted.

So then why the fuck wasn't Dumbledore doing anything about it!? Did he now _want_ Voldemort teaching them? None of this made any bloody sense!

* * *

Harry was sitting in his favourite comfy armchair by the fireplace in Gryffindor's common room, when Hermione, who had been off at the library, approached him, and passed him what appeared to be a letter.

"Hedwig couldn't find a way into the Tower," she explained, "so she brought it to me in the library. I didn't read it," she added. "Although Ginny tried."

Harry frowned. "Tried?"

Hermione raised a brow. "Do you really think I would let her get her hands on your mail if I could help it?" she questioned with a smirk.

The boy couldn't help but laugh. "Sometimes I forget just how dangerous you are, Hermione!"

Hermione's smirk only grew, but she sobered quickly. "So, is that letter from who I think it is?"

Not having an answer to that yet, Harry checked for himself, quickly reading through the letter he had been handed a moment ago.

_Potter,_

_You seem quite confused and angry, especially recently. Are you truly so against me having beaten your godfather in a bet and taken over his class?_

_I suppose that might answer to your anger, but not your confusion._

_What has you so confused, Harry?_

_Voldemort_

"Huh..."

"Harry?"

In silence, he handed the letter back to the witch, and knowing she had his approval, she read it as well, faster than he had.

"Huh..." she found herself echoing.

"So?" said Harry. "Sounds weird, doesn't it?"

"It does," Hermione agreed with a nod, handing him the letter again. "Maybe he's sick?"

Harry scoffed, shoving the letter in his pocket. "He's the Dark Lord, I don't think that's possible."

Still, possible or not, neither of them deny that something about the letter just seemed very...off. They just couldn't figure out how.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it for now. Like I said above, migraines are a bitch, so I'm sorry if this chapter sucks. But hey, an update is an update, right? Comments? Kudos?


	44. Chapter 44

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo! Thank you to all readers so far, and an extra thanks to those who dropped a comment! Credit for the bet idea (what the bet is) goes to D C JoKeR H S, who left a most hilarious review that got the bunnies moving!

It took another week before the truth of what was now simply known as The Bet, finally came to light, much to the pleasure of almost literally everyone except Severus Snape.

After a lot of begging, cajoling, threatening, questioning, and Marauderesque pranking, Harry Potter, at long last, was finally able to get his godfather to spill the beans on what had happened.

Professor Bright and Professor Black had bet on whether or not Professor Snape...ate fruits... And Professor Black was wrong. Though Professor Black claimed otherwise, Professor Snape did, in fact, eat and even enjoy fruits.

Oh, the...horror?

Professor Black still seemed rather shocked and put out over and with this entire situation and revelation.

Still, no one else was really complaining. Professor Bright made a damn good Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.

And now that Harry had the answer to one of the questions that had been bothering him, he moved onto another question, one that was bothering him far more than The Bet ever did: What the fuck was wrong with that last letter he had received?

He had read it over and over again, so many times that he had even managed to memorize it (which would no doubt please Axel), and yet, no matter how many times he went over it, it continued sounding somehow off, and he still had absolutely no idea why.

Hermione had actually gone over the letter more time than Harry had over the past week, casting spell after spell on it, and even _she_ wasn't able to figure anything out, though she too agreed that there was definitely something wrong with it.

It was an annoyingly frustrating situation, that had a surprisingly simple answer.

"Have you tried writing him back and asking him yourself?"

Harry stared at Neville, absolutely gobsmacked. That... "Neville! You amazingly wonderful genius you! If my heart didn't already belong to Aragorn, I would bloody kiss you right now! Thank you!" And with that excited exclamation, Harry ran up to the dorm.

"...Er...you're...welcome?" a furiously blushing Neville mumbled in a very late reaction. What in the world had just happened?

* * *

Meanwhile, a few floors below, Leo Bright had just finished marking homework. He returned to his private quarters, and as soon as the door was shut behind him, dropped his glamour, becoming Marvolo once more, much to his pleasure.

Just because Dumbledore (and Harry, and Hermione, and Neville, oh, and Luna too, of course) knew his true identity, didn't mean everyone else did too. Well, not yet, at any rate. But they would soon enough.

Pouring himself a drink and grabbing a book off the shelf, he settled down in an armchair, intent on having a quiet evening for once, simply wishing to get some of his own reading done.

It lasted a grand total of five minutes.

There was a popping sound, and a House-Elf suddenly appeared before him. If Marvolo had been anyone other than the Dark Lord, he would have jumped in surprise and spilled his drink all over his book. Luckily, he _was_ the Dark Lord, so that didn't happen. Instead, he merely calmly leveled his crimson gaze on the happy little creature standing before him.

"Yes?"

The House-Elf didn't reply. It set a torn leaf of parchment on the book in the man's lap, and then stepped back quickly, staring at him with very large eyes. With a high pitched- "Hee hee hee," and another pop, it was gone.

"You!" But Marvolo was too slow to react, and was already alone once more, the creature long gone. Still, he had recognized that laughter immediately, and finally knew who Harry's 'super effective' spy was.

A House-Elf, eh? How unexpected. Perhaps the teen was onto something here.

Marvolo turned his attention to the torn parchment a moment later, and cautiously picked it up, figuring it must have come from Harry, considering his spy had delivered it. And, sure enough, in that familiar, terrible handwriting-

_Marvolo,_

_This might sound a bit odd and random, and possibly even kind of idiotic, but I really need to know-did you write and send me a letter last week?_

_Don't use Hedwig if you're going to reply in writing, rather than in person. I have a...I guess suspicion that something's wrong, and Hermione agrees with me._

_Harry_

The man stared at the torn parchment, brow creased, and a frown on his pale face. "A letter?" he murmured to himself. "Last week?" He slowly sipped his drink, crimson eyes still focused on the missive, falling deep into thought.

So much for a quiet evening of reading...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for now. Comments? Kudos?


	45. Chapter 45

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo. Apologies for the wait. I finished writing this a week ago, but never really got around to typing and editing it. I've been reading a crap load of Naruto fics recently, and can literally sit there and read for hours at a time, so yeah, that's my excuse this time. Blame Kakashi and Itachi. And Gaara. And Neji.

Marvolo had no idea what Harry was on about, because he hadn't, in fact, sent anyone, let alone Harry a letter. Well, as far as he remembered, at least. Which meant two things. Either he had sent the letter while drunk, which was certainly possible, or someone had forged it, which probably just as possible.

He had Harry stay back after class as soon as he could, and examined the letter himself. Even at first glance, it was obvious that the hand writing _was_ his own. Or appeared to be, at least. But there were of spells out there that could mimic or replicate something like that, and they weren't particularly difficult to perform.

The way the letter was written-the words used, was strange too. It was addressed to 'Potter' and signed as 'Voldemort', which immediately stood out, since the two referred to one another as 'Harry' and 'Marvolo' now.

And despite having addressed the letter to 'Potter', the writer had used 'Harry' in the middle of the letter, as if they had forgotten they were pretending not to be familiar with the teen.

Which likely also meant that the writer had no idea how close Marvolo and Harry really were. So that ruled out Hermione, Neville, Luna, and Dumbledore. ...Huh.

"If Dumbledore didn't write it, then who did?" Harry questioned.

Marvolo frowned, but didn't answer right away, still staring at the letter in his hands. Old Dumbledore had been his first guess too. It just seemed like something the foolish meddler would do. Unless he was pretending not to know how close the two had gotten, but really, what reason would he have to do that?

Both Marvolo and Harry were at a baffled loss. There were no magical signatures on the letter, and not even Hedwig could show them who had asked for her to deliver it, leading them to believe the sender had used a spell on the owl to either confuse her, or cause her to forget.

And while Harry was fuming that someone had dated touch _Hedwig_ , neither he nor Marvolo could figure out the _point_ to any of _this_. There _had_ to be a reason, right? Not even Luna was able to shed any light on the situation, and that was really saying something...

As January came to an end, the populace of Wizarding Britain and Hogwarts herself, were once more subjugated to a rather controversial edition of the Daily Prophet. But it wasn't Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore who was under scrutiny this time. No, it was Harry James Potter.

Well, wasn't that just bloody brilliant? Harry sure as Trevor didn't think so.

_Boy-Who-Lived and Dark Lord You-Know-Who Secretly in Communication!?_

_This reporter was quite surprised to find an unmarked envelope on his desk just last night. This envelope contained a letter that I was shocked to realize had been written by none other than He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and addressed, much to my growing alarm, to our Saviour. (A copy of the letter can be found below.)_

_Now it seems we must all ask ourselves if the Boy-Who-Lived is truly as innocent as we were all led to believe. Is he truly worthy to be called our Saviour?_

_Until next time, precious readers!_

_Saala Kamina_

Printed right below was the letter supposedly sent from Voldemort to Harry.

_Potter,_

_For the last time-I didn't kill the bloody Godaime Kazekage*! Now please refrain from asking me that again!_

_Voldemort_

At Gryffindor Table, Harry set his copy of the newspaper on fire, and stalked out of the Great Hall, muttering, "Like I even want to be your fucking Saviour!" Closely following him was Hermione, looking quite concerned. Up at the Head Table, Professor Bright did the exact same thing, though it was Snape who followed after him, his robes billowing behind him epically.

One of the students watching the proceedings smirked, clearly pleased with themselves. Ron, meanwhile, too caught up in the Quidditch statistics, didn't notice he was inhaling charred newspaper remains along with his bacon. Neville, however, did notice, and made a mental note to have the redhead go see the nurse one of these days. There was no way this was healthy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I know Gaara didn't die when he was Kazekage, this was written on purpose. Anyway, comments? Kudos?


	46. Chapter 46

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo. Thank you to all readers so far.

"The letter was obviously fake, Harry," Hermione assured soothingly. She, Harry, Marvolo, and surprisingly, Snape, were seated in the Room of Requirement, although Snape was being ignored for the most part, because what was he even doing here? Nobody invited him.

Harry sighed. "I know-it's pretty obvious. But that's really only because I know what his usual letters sound like. This is actually pretty close to how they used to be back in the summer."

Marvolo inclined his head, acknowledging those words. But he didn't say anything, too focused on examining the copy of the letter in the newspaper Hermione had brought with her, his eyes narrowed.

"The odd thing here though, is that the letter actually partially relates to something we were saying before," said Harry slowly.

"How so?" inquired the witch, cocking her head.

Harry hesitated, but when Marvolo didn't say anything, he began to explain. "I was comparing him to Orochimaru at one point. You know, that creepy snake guy from Naruto? In this letter," he nodded towards the Prophet, "'Voldemort' said he didn't kill the Kazekage-another character from that series."

Hermione just blinked. "I'm at a loss here, Harry."

Harry laughed. "Sorry, I guess that didn't really explain much. See, it was Orochimaru who killed the Kazekage-one of them, at least. So whoever wrote this letter knows about our previous letters, but obviously doesn't fully know what they're doing, because Orochimaru killed the Yondaime Kazekage, not the Godaime. Hmph, Gaara's too Gaara for that."

Hermione blinked again, trying to understand. "Soooo, basically, they have the right context, but did a poor job at researching?"

Harry nodded. "Exactly."

"Well," the bushy haired witch sighed, "that rules out the Ravenclaws." Then she frowned and looked back up. "Have you suspected Ginny yet?"

The emerald eyed teen was about to dismiss that adamantly, but broke off after the first syllable had left him. Ginny, huh? That was...actually possible. Hell, not just possible, but also pretty likely.

"She definitely fits," he told his friend with a decisive nod. "Hmph, she's probably just jealous that I'd rather get fucked by Aragorn than fuck her." And he grinned smugly.

Hermione tried not to grin at the mental image that provided , and threw a pillow at Harry's head. "Focus, Harry!" she chastised.

Harry's grin grew. "Oh don't be hypocritical, 'Mione. Come back to me when you stop dreaming about Elrond bending you over his desk and fucking you senseless."

Hermione gaped, eyes wide, cheeks flushed. Then she buried her face in pillow, trying to hide her embarrassment.

"Oh! You're also quite fond of imaging Thranduil tying you to his throne and-"

"Harry!" she wined. Then her eyes flashed and she straightened from her hunched position. "Fine, then we're going to talk about _your_ latest fantasy about being sandwiched between Aragorn and Kili, and how they-"

Well, that plan backfired.

"Gah! Back to Ginny!" Harry interrupted loudly, before Hermione could describe his newest delicious fantasy to the Dark Lord and Snape. Needless to say, the witch was the one looking rather smug now. ...Dammit.

It was entirely possible that Ginny was behind this. Harry had no doubt the girl had read some of the letters over the summer, and having written back and forth with Diary Tom for months, she would already know his style. Since that was such a traumatic experience for her, surely she remembered what 'Tom's handwriting looked like. A simple spell could change handwriting, so long as you were able to picture what you wanted it to look like in your mind.

Petty and vindictive, this certainly seemed like something she would do. But...if she wanted Harry for herself, why would she go around trying to slander his name? After all, she wanted him _because_ he was Harry Potter. Hell, if he wasn't the Boy-Who-Lived, she probably wouldn't have spared him a second glance. So why would she try to _ruin_ his name?

He shared his thoughts with Hermione, who crossed her legs and chewed her bottom lip in thought. That was actually a very good point. "Maybe she thinks it'll keep other potential partners away from you, so you'll have no choice but to accept her advances?" she suggested. "You know she doesn't accept that you're gay. She's said more than once that if you just gave her a chance, she'd teach you better."

Harry nodded and frowned. "That _does_ make sense." He sighed, then ran his fingers through his dark hair. "I think the easiest way to figure this out is to just ask her."

Hermione raised a brow, surprised. "And how do you propose we do that? You know she'll deny it. She _always_ denies things she's accused of."

The emerald eyed teen scoffed. "Hermione, I'm the son of a Marauder, the godson of two more, and _very_ good friends the Weasley twins. I'm _pretty_ sure I'll find a way." A moment later, however, he realized Marvolo was eyeing him oddly. "What?" he questioned.

The man raised a dark brow. "Aragorn _and_ Kili?"

Harry flushed slightly. "S-shut it, you!"

Hermione, however, looked at Marvolo, Harry, and Snape, a familiar glint in her eyes. "So," she spoke, drawing their attention to her. She smirked, brown eyes on Harry. "Threesome no Jutsu?"

Snape choked.

Marvolo stared.

Harry didn't dignify that with an answer.

But the blush on Harry's cheeks answered Hermione's question for her, and her smirk grew. Oh, she was going to have _so_ much fun with this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Sorry. I have no idea where ninety percent this chapter came from. Anyway, comments? Kudos?


	47. Chapter 47

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very bored Harry Potter starts writing to the Dark Lord over the summer after his fifth year at Hogwarts. An equally bored Voldemort decides to write back. And thus, a summer of secrets is born, and the enemy named boredom is fended off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo! Apologies for any typos. I'm watching Raw and nursing yet another migraine, so I may have missed something. Oh! Also, there won't actually be a threesome in this. That 'Threesome no Jutsu' in the previous chapter was just said as another way for Hermione to tease Harry. Sorry if that disappoints anyone! Thank you to all readers so far!

Ginny was wandering through the corridors of Hogwarts. Surprisingly (to those who saw her), she was on her own, a rare sight indeed. Of course, they had no idea where the redhead had just come from. Who knew Hufflepuffs could be so...kinky?

She walked, smirking in satisfaction, eager to return to Gryffindor Tower so she could shower. She felt very, er, sticky. Still, she didn't particularly mind. It had been well worth it. Humming to herself cheerfully, she turned a corner, and-

"What the-!?"

There was a brief struggle, and before she knew it, Ginny found herself bound, gagged, and blindfolded. Having just got out of the exact same situation with the eager Badgers, Ginny didn't even question what was happening, and simply went along with it, smirking inwardly. She hadn't expected them to recover so quickly. She had wrung them all dry!

Unfortunately for Ginny, it wasn't a group of kinky Hufflepuffs that had just kidnapped her. Not even close...

When whoever was carrying her over their shoulder came to a stop, she expected to be gently set down on a large, fluffy bed. But she wasn't. Instead, she was harshly dropped down on to the cold, hard, stone floor, causing her to wince at the impact.

Unable to see, speak, or touch, she waited for her 'kidnappers' to call her a filthy little princess, just like they always did.

"What the shit?"

Ginny frowned from around her gag, brow furrowing. Well, that wasn't right. ...Wait-that voice! She knew that voice! That was her Harry! She knew it was! Were her dreams about to come true already!? Oh! She wasn't ready yet! She wasn't wearing the right clothes, and her hair was all mussed, and her makeup had been smeared a little, and-

"Did you seriously just kidnap her right out of the corridor?" Harry questioned incredulously. Wait, who was he talking to?

"How else were we going to be able to question her?" a second, deeper and calmer voice retorted. Huh? Who was that? Well, whoever he was, he sounded weirdly familiar.

"You're a professor!" Harry exclaimed in exasperation. "And you teach her too! You could have just called her to your office or something!"

"..."

"..."

"...Shall we begin?"

"Please."

The blindfold was removed, and Ginny blinked a few times, realizing she was in an oddly small, dimly lit room. She looked up, only to find Harry and Professor Bright standing over her. Oh, so  _that_ was why the second voice had sounded so familiar!

"What the hell is going on here?" It wasn't until she had posed the question that Ginny even realized the gag had been taken off too.

It was Harry who spoke first, green eyes laser focused. "Why?"

Ginny blinked, clearly confused. "Why what?"

Harry didn't look away, eyes only narrowing. "Why did you forge a letter to me while pretending to be Voldemort-" he ignored the girl's flinch, "-and send it to that Saala Kamina at the Daily Prophet? Why did you do it?"

"But-but I didn't!" Ginny protested, squirming and trying to free herself from her bonds. "I didn't have anything to do with that!" She peered up at them imploringly. This was so not going the way she had expected it to!

Needless to say, neither Harry, nor Professor 'Bright' believed her. Not one bit. Ginny was the most likely suspect, aside from Dumbledore himself, but they knew the old man wasn't behind this, which just left the redhead. Reaching the same conclusion, the two exchanged a contemplative glance.

"Veritaserum?"

"Veritaserum."

Ginny's eyes widened, and though she struggled harder, she was easily overpowered, and glared as three drops of the clear potion landed on her tongue. Almost immediately, a haze settled over her mind, dulling all her senses.

"What's your full name?" Harry asked.

"Ginerva Molly Weasley," the girl replied in a slow monotone.

Professor Bright fought not to roll his eyes. "That is the most  _idiotic_  question to ask when checking if the potion works. There is no reason to lie about your name, unless you are under a false one. Even if the potion failed to work, the victim could simply state their name truthfully, lulling everyone into a false sense of security, and then lie about everything else."

"Huh..." Harry just blinked. He certainly hadn't ever thought of that before, true though it seemed to be. "So, ask her a different question to verify it's working?" And when the man nodded in confirmation, Harry posed a second question. "What did I tell you I was fantasizing about the day you walked in on me wanking?" Since it had only happened once, there could only to one answer, and Harry couldn't hardly forget what it was.

"The King of Gondor and his throne."

Leo Bright raised a brow in question, and Harry shrugged.

"That's true. If the potion wasn't working, she would've said I was fantasizing about her instead." The girl was, after all, just that vain, and clearly still didn't know how to take no for an answer.

"Good." Satisfied, Leo turned to their victim. "Did you forge a letter to Harry Potter, pretending to be the Dark Lord Voldemort in any way, shape, or form?"

"No," Ginny replied in that same, dull voice.

Huh...

"Did you have any part to play in the writing or sending of said letter?"

"No."

Harry's brow furrowed in confusion, and he dragged his fingers through his dark hair. They had been so sure that it was Ginny! "Do you know who really wrote that letter and sent it to the Daily Prophet?" the teen inquired. Sure, it was a shot in the dark, but he figured it was worth asking, just in case. Ginny was prone to gossiping, after all, and no doubt heard just as much as she dealt out. And sure enough-

"Yes."

Harry's eyes widened, and even 'Leo' looked surprised, honestly not having expected a positive answer. "You know who did it?"

"Yes."

"Who was it? What's their name?"

Ginny struggled here, trying to fight against the serum, but she was far too mentally weak to manage it, and only lasted three seconds before she blurted out the name of the true culprit.

"Cho Chang."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it for now. See? A mostly serious chapter! ...Mostly. Comments? Kudos?

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Attack of the Furby](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7657441) by [Genuka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Genuka/pseuds/Genuka)




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